Jus in Bello
by SUPRNTRAL LVR
Summary: AU to Jus in Bello... what COULD have happened in the fight against the demons... what if the bomb inside Sam went off early? Lots of limp!Sam and angst!Dean to come also a little demon!Sam.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I only own this story, not Supernatural or Sam and Dean!**

**Okay, this is pretty much what I thought could have happened in Jus in Bello, Season 3. I hope it will work. Completely AU and doesn't really fit in with how the rest of the season ends, but go with me on this... :). Enjoy!**

_"Open the doors, let 'em all in... and then we fight."_

Dean's words echoed in Sam's head as he hefted the rifle in his hands, swallowing hard to wet his dry throat. He stepped forwards and threw open one of the doors to the police station. He crouched down and scratched out the edge of the devils trap he had drawn.

_This isn't going to work..._

But what else was there to do? Kill Nancy? Yes she was willing, and yes it would work, but Dean was right. They couldn't value one life over others.

_If the whole world was going to die unless you killed one person... would you do it?_

He pushed the thought out of his mind and tightened his grip on the rifle. It was too late for arguements now anyway. From somewhere behind him in the building, Dean's muffled voice rang out.

"All set?"

Sam ran his tongue over his lips. "Yeah!" he called back, hoping that he sounded more confident than he felt.

"Ready?" Dean checked. "Let's do this."

Sam kicked a gap in the salt barrier he had laid down so carefully less than an hour ago. He lifted his gun, taking a deep breath as he did so. He had to trust Dean. Dean had always come through for him before, and he was his brother for gods sake. He waited, his heart flickering in his chest. Nothing happened.

_Come on, come on..._

He backed up, sneaking side glimpses at the room around him in case the demons had already gotten in some other way. A sudden volley of gunshots broke out behind him and he glanced over his shoulder, his heart jerking. His first instinct was to run to help whoever was being attacked - it could be Dean on the end of that gun - but he forced himself to remain still. Running footsteps drew his attention to the doors he had just opened, and he fired at the possessed man sprinting towards him.

The man tumbled to the ground and Sam felt a small rush of satisfaction before a second man rocketted into him from behind, carrying them both to the floor. Sam lashed out with one foot and rolled free, failing at the man with the handle of his rifle. He caught the demon across the face and scrambled to his feet. He caught a blur of movement out of the corner of his eye and turned, firing just as a third demon launched itself at him. It fell backwards, screaming shrilly.

And then, before he had time to think, they were all rushing at him.

As they closed in around him, forming a tight wall of bodies, one last thought rushed through his mind.

_We can't beat them._

Then he was whirling around, firing wildly at the demons that threw themselves at him. They fell back a little and he brought his rifle down on the face of one of the ones that came to close. It dropped away from him but another grabbed him from behind, its fingers digging into him. At once the others ran forwards eagerly, and Sam lashed out with one foot. He twisted free of the demon holding him and fired.

"Sam! SAM!"

Sam turned, his heart jerking. "Dean!"

Dean appeared in the mouth of the corridor, backing towards him and firing at the crowd of demons surging after him as he went. He glanced over his shoulder, and his eyes met Sam's. His face was cold and hard, full on fight mode. Sam turned and fired at the demons moving towards him. His eyes lifted to take in the masses of demons forcing their way in through the doors, their black eyes fixed on him. He took a step backwards and felt Dean's back against his own.

"Dean, there's too many of them," he threw over his shoulder. "We can't do this."

"Yes we can!" Dean snarled, his voice harsh with desperation and fury. "Henrickson! Now!"

Sam swallowed hard and made a grab for his holy water as his gun finally ran out. A demon leapt for him and its fist caught him across the jaw, sending him staggering backwards into the wall. Dean let out a sharp cry and swung his gun at it. Sam shook himself to regain his hold on reality and sent a spray of holy water into the demon's face. It screamed shrilly and stumbled away.

At that moment his own recorded voice began to speak, and the demons screeched and slammed their hands over their ears. Sam let out a long breath but tossed a little holy water at those coming too close, clearing a space around him and Dean. Henrickson appeared in the doorway of the small office and moved towards them, weaving his way around the writhing demons.

Sam opened his mouth to say that he thought they might actually make it, when the demon Nancy had recognized earlier as Jenna rose to her feet and jerked a fist towards the loudspeaker in the corner. Sparks exploded behind it, and the exorsism cut off. The demons, who had scattered to the two main exists stopped trying to escape and turned as one, their black eyes gleaming. Sam and Dean exchanged a panicked glance.

"Shit," Dean muttered.

"What do we do?" Henrickson hissed.

No one answered. The demons to their right started forwards and Dean moved to meet them, lifting his gun. A demon flicked its hand and the gun ripped from Dean's fingers, spiralling over their heads to land across the room. Dean let out a yelp as the demon launched itself at him, its fingers fastening around his throat.

"Dean!"

Sam was dimly aware of Henrickson and the other officer rushing to meet the oncoming demons on their left, but he didn't care. He sprinted towards Dean, calling his brother's name, but more demons moved between them. Sam skidded to a halt, his eyes flicking from one to the next.

_Shit, shit, shit..._

"Dean!" he yelled.

Dean made a strangled choking sound, and the demon holding him let out a bark of laughter. Rage exploded in Sam's head and his hands balled into fists, the holy water dropping forgotten to the ground beside him.

_No. NO. They don't get to kill him, not after everything, not after he sold his soul for me... I can still save him... NO!_

A demon reached for him - and a wave of brilliant light exploded from Sam's body.

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Dean could feel the demon cutting of the air to his lungs, but no matter how much he struggled and fought against it it wouldn't move. He lashed out with one foot, but the demon didn't even flinch. It grinned and tightened its grip.

"Dean!"

Dean heard his brother's voice and tried to reply, but his voice came out as a gasping retch. Black dots were starting to dance before his eyes, blocking out parts of his vision.

_Never thought I would go like this after I'd sold my soul..._

He slid his eyes to the side, fixing them on Sam. His brother was standing rigid, his path barred by demons. As he watched, Sam's desperate expression changed abruptly to one of fury and hatred. Warning bells went off in Dean's head: something was wrong. Something bad was about to happen. He tried to call Sam's name again but no sound came out this time. Sam turned his head as one of the demons reached for him.

And his eyes turned black.

Dean had about three seconds in which to stare at his brother in horror before Sam shut his eyes and blinding white light burst out from his body. Dean felt the demon's hold on him cut off and dropped to his feet, grabbing the wall for support, sucking in huge gulps of air. He shut his eyes against the fierce light, but he couldn't shut his ears to the agonized screams of the demons directly around him. The light was so powerful that it shone through his eyelids in a thick red glare.

Then, just as suddenly as it had come, the light shut off.

Dean opened his eyes, his hands trembling in shock, to see Sam swaying a few meters away. His brother's eyes were brown again, but the blood had drained from his face and his mouth hung open slightly. Around them the demons had vanished and their empty human hosts were lying unconscious on the ground.

_What the hell...?_

Dean lifted his gaze to Sam, panting. Sam took a small, shuddering breath. Then he crumpled and dropped like a stone to the floor. At the same time, Dean became aware of comotion on the other side of the building: apparently whatever Sam had just done hadn't wiped out all of the demons.

Dean leapt forwards, his heart jerking in his chest, and skidded to the floor beside his brother. He rolled Sam over onto his back, gripping his shoulder tightly.

"Sam? Sam!"

Sam's eyes were tightly shut, and his breathing was coming fast and shallow. Dean felt a rush of panic and shook Sam slightly, but got no response. Dean looked up as Henrickson called his name to see a demon running towards them, its black eyes gleaming. He looked around, caught sight of the holy water lying on the floor nearby and snatched it up. He whipped the bottle at the demons, and they stumbled away.

Henrickson fought his way over to Dean's side to cover him, standing with his back to the brothers. His eyes were wide with fear and confusion, but he kept his focus on the demons attacking them.

"Dean! What the hell was that? There was just this big light and then... what happened?"

"I dunno," Dean whispered, his eyes fixing on Sam.

Henrickson pulled a spare gun from his belt and tossed it to the floor beside Dean, keeping his eyes on the demons.

"Snap outta it, Dean, I need you. You're the only one who knows about this stuff."

Dean reached out and took the gun before rising to his feet, standing protectively over Sam. He forced his mind back to the fight, his eyes flickering down to his motionless brother every few moments. He fired at a demon that was trying to come at them from the side.

"Are they all trapped in here?"

Henrickson nodded. Dean fired again.

"Okay. Then we all get out now and seal the doors behind us. Leave them in here."

"But you said that we had to take them all down-"

"Things have changed!" Dean snapped. "We're going, now!"

Henrickson hesitated, but then called to the other officer. Dean looked around to make sure that no one was aiming for him right now, and then ducked down and dragged Sam up to his feet.

"Jesus, Sam, how the hell did you get so heavy?" he panted, trying to make himself feel slightly better. It didn't work: his hands were still shaking as he pulled Sam's arm across his own shoulders and began to stagger towards the door, Sam a dead weight at his side. One of the officers reached him and took Sam's other side, biting back his questions. Dean nodded gratefully to him.

They reached the doors and Dean looked back over his shoulder. Henrickson was still struggling with the demons, and they were closing in on him. Dean let go of Sam, reaching for his gun.

"Get out," he snarled at the other man. "Put the salt line back. We'll catch up."

The man nodded, teeth gritted as he struggled to support Sam's weight. Dean turned and ran back to Henrickson, grabbing the man's shoulder and dragging him backwards. Henrickson glanced at him in suprise, faltering slightly, and Dean sent a volley of bullets at the demons. They screamed and dropped back a little, and Dean tugged at Henrickson's arm.

"Go! GO!" he yelled.

Henrickson turned and ran. Dean sprinted after him, glancing over his shoulder. The demons had already recovered and were rushing after them, roaring in anger. Henrickson cleared the door and Dean leapt out after him before throwing himself backwards and slamming the door shut. He opened his mouth but Nancy was already completing a salt line, locking the door shut. It shuddered as the demons launched themselves at it, and then went still.

For a few moments, all any of them could hear was harsh panting. Then Dean pulled away from the door and went to where the officer had put Sam down on the ground. He knelt down beside his brother and touched his shoulder hesitantly.

"Sam?" he asked. "Sammy? C'mon Sam, time to wake up."

Sam didn't even blink. He was so pale that he reminded Dean of how he had been when he was dead... _stop it. _He shook his head forcefully, swallowing hard. Sam wasn't dead. He couldn't be...

"What happened to him?" Nancy asked softly, crouching beside Dean.

Dean shook his head. "I don't know," he whipsered.

**So? Good? Bad? Bit of both? Tell me what you think. If I get no reviews I won't bother with another chapter, I'll just assume its all rubbish :).**

**SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I only own this story, not Supernatural or Sam and Dean!**

**Thank you for so many reviews already! I tried to update as soon as I could.**

Dean looked up as Henrickson moved over to them, blood running down his face from a wound on his forehead, his shoulders shuddering as he panted from their rushed escape.

"Dean, we can't stay here. They won't be stuck in there forever - they'll find some way out."

Dean swallowed hard, realizing that he had become the leader here. But, although Henrickson's panicked words were beating down on his ears and he knew he had to do something, he couldn't tear his eyes from Sam's lifeless face. His brother's porcelain skin looked almost translucent in the darkness, dark blue smudges vivid under his eyes. Dean kept one hand clenched tightly over Sam's shoulder, as if afraid that if he let go his brother might dissappear.

"Dean, did you hear me? Dean!"

Henrickson's hand closed over his arm and Dean looked up, binking. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered. "Uh... you got cars? Not police ones, they could track them, just normal cars."

Henrickson nodded. "Round in the back, where we put yours."

Dean rose to his feet, clenching his fists to stop his hands from shaking. "Okay... okay... come get one and then follow me out."

"Where're we going?" the other officer - Phil Amici, was that his name? - asked shakily.

Dean shook his head. "Just get the car," he muttered.

He turned to Sam and bent down again. He pulled Sam up with him, pulling away when Nancy reached out to help. He just couldn't let anyone else touch his brother right now, not after this.

_After he turned into a demon right in front of me..._

_Stop it. _Sam wasn't a demon. He wasn't evil. And he never would be.

Dean began to move towards the impound lot, Sam dragging beside him. Henrickson nudged Phil and then ducked around Dean, striding ahead of them all towards the lot. Phil hesitated, but then followed him. Nancy remained beside the Winchesters, lingering to match Dean's slow progress. She was chewing on her lip, and looked like she wanted to say something but kept biting her words back. Finally, as they reached the end of the building, she couldn't hold herself any longer.

"You sure you don't want any help?" she asked.

"Yah," Dean panted, his legs shaking slightly as he stepped forwards.

Nancy hesitated, and then took Sam's other arm and pulled it over her shoulders. Dean shot her a glare.

"I said I got him."

"No you haven't, we're moving too slow and you know it," she replied calmly. "Its okay, I'm not gonna hurt him."

Dean snorted under his breath but didn't pull away. With Nancy's help, he reached the impound lot in only about a minute. Henrickson was leaning into a pickup truck, looking at something on the dashboard.

"Its got more than the others," Phil was saying. "Just take this one. Jesus, Henrickson, we don't have time to be picky."

Henrickson looked up and caught sight of them as they made their way over to the Impala. He nodded and sat down in the driver's seat, reaching out to close the door behind him. Phil climbed in on the other side.

Dean reached the Impala and jerked his head at it, tightening his grip on Sam's shirt. "Get the back door," he told Nancy shortly, not caring if he was being polite or not.

Nancy ducked away from Sam and pulled the back door open before standing back to give him room. Dean pulled Sam around so that his brother was in front of him, then leant into the car. He put one knee on the back seat so that he could get in further and laid Sam down across the leather.

"I gotcha, Sammy," he whispered, gripping Sam's arm. "I'm gonna fix this, I swear."

He pulled back out of the car. Sam was so tall that he had to swing his legs in afterwards, leaving them to twist of the seat slightly. Dean shut the door and headed around to the driver's seat. He got in, and then looked up as Nancy slipped into the passenger side.

"What the hell are you doing? Go with Henrickson."

"And what if you need help on the way?" she shot back. "I'm staying with you guys."

Dean opened his mouth, but then thought better of it. He wasn't going to waste time arguing with her. Shaking his head, he started the engine and pulled out of the impound lot. He heard the roar of another engine as Henrickson followed him. As he turned onto the road and accelerated, he raked his brains for somewhere safe they could go, somewhere he could protect Sam and have people he could trust to help them...

_I need Dad._

He didn't have Dad. But he had the next best thing...

"Where are we going?" Nancy asked hesitantly.

"Bobby's," Dean murmured. "We're going to Bobby's."

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Nancy could feel her eyes drooping, but she fought them open again. They had been driving for at least an hour, and she was beginning to feel the exaustion from the long day she had endured. She allowed herself to lean against the window, the cool glass calming against her forehead. She had no idea who Bobby was, or how far away his home was but Dean seemed to be intent on going there. Maybe this Bobby knew some way to help Sam...

She glanced over her shoulder at Sam Winchester, lying still and pale along the back seats. She could see small pinpricks of sweat standing out on his forehead, and his eyes were clenched shut so hard that it must hurt. She wanted to do something to help him, but she doubted that Dean would allow her to do anything more. He was so protective. And, even if he wasn't, what was there that she could do?

Dean heaved a deep sigh, and Nancy glanced at him. His face was lined with strain and anxiety, and his knuckles were white as he clenched the steering wheel. She wet her lips, and then spoke before she thought of a reason why she should stay quiet.

"Do you think we should call Bobby before we get there?" she asked. "You know, just so he's expecting us. You might want him to get a bed ready or something..."

Dean glanced at her distractedly. "Yeah... I guess..." He pulled out his mobile and pushed it at her. "He's in my phone book."

She took the hint and began to scroll through his contacts. She reached 'Bobby' and pressed the green button to call him. The mobile rang for a few moments before a gruff voice answered on the other end.

"Dean?"

"Uh, I'm Nancy," she said, unsure of what to say.

Bobby's voice went wary and guarded at once. "Where's Dean?"

"He's right here, he's driving."

"Tell him we're heading to his place, that something's happened to Sam and I don't know what to do," Dean whispered, his eyes fixed on the road in front of him but somehow staring through it.

"We're heading to your place," Nancy replied, repeating Dean's words. "Something's happened to Sam and Dean doesn't know what to do."

"What's happened? Is Sam hurt?"

Nancy glanced over her shoulder at Sam's still form. "I'm not sure," she said. "We're coming to yours now."

"Where are you?"

"Tell him an hour's drive away," Dean muttered.

"An hour's drive away," Nancy repeated.

"Okay. Tell Dean to hang in there, whatever's wrong we'll work it out." Bobby hung up.

Nancy lowered the mobile and passed it back to Dean. "He says hang in there, he'll work it out," she told him.

Some of the tension in Dean's face eased slightly, and he nodded. "Thanks, Nancy." He glanced in the rearview mirror. "How's Sam? I can't see him properly, he's too low."

Nancy twisted to look at the younger Winchester again. He looked worse than when he had been at the police station, and she could barely see his chest moving. She swallowed hard.

"He looks good," she whispered.

And somehow, that was worse for Dean to hear than if she had told him the truth. Because he knew she was lying.

And he knew what that meant.

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By the time they reached Bobbys it was the early hours of the morning, and Dean's body was aching from the fighting earlier that night. All he wanted to do was go somewhere where there was no worry, no panic, no frickin' destiny hovering over their heads. All he wanted was for Sam to be safe.

He turned into the Singer Salvage Yard and stopped the car. Lights were flooding the driveway, so Bobby was expecting them. Dean climbed out of the Impala, Nancy moving to join him on the other side.

"Go knock on the door, tell him we're here," Dean told her.

She nodded and moved towards the house. He made a mental note to thank her later for being so understanding, for obeying him without question when he needed her to, for arguing with him when he wasn't listening. He pulled open the door to the back seat and crouched down beside Sam for a few moments.

"Sammy?" he asked. "We're at Bobby's. We're home. Listen, man, I really need you to wake up now. I'm scared. I need you to wake up and explain this whole messed up thing for me. Please, Sammy?"

Sam didn't stir.

Dean dropped his chin to his chest and closed his eyes, taking a few moments to push back the tears of weariness and panic that threatened to fall. Then he rose to his feet and pulled Sam from the car. Sam fell bonelessly against him, and he struggled to support his brother and close the door. He heard the roar of an engine and glanced over to the gates of Bobby's yard to see Henrickson turning into it. The officer nodded to him before driving away into the maze of rubble to find a place to park. Dean slammed the door shut and pulled Sam's arm over his shoulders, fisting his hand in the back of Sam's jacket. He looked up to see the door opening and Bobby pulling Nancy inside, muttering to her intently.

"Okay, little bro, we're heading in now. You don't think you could gimmie a hand, huh?"

Nothing. Dean took a step towards the building, Sam lolling at his side. He had just got a metre away from the door when he heard running footsteps behind him and Sam's weight eased slightly. He glanced over to see Henrickson taking Sam's other side, and this time he was too bone weary to protest. Bobby appeared in the doorway agian, and then pulled out of the way. His eyes flickered to Phil and Henrickson.

"You brought _cops _here?" he asked incredulously.

Dean shook his head. "They know," he replied flatly. "They're on our side now."

Bobby's eyes turned to Sam, and a father-like worry leapt into them. "Shit, Dean, what happened..."

It was hardly even a question as Bobby stepped forwards to take Henrickson's place on Sam's other side.

"We'll take him to your room," he said, maneuvering both Winchesters towards the stairs. Dean knew without asking that he meant the room he and Sam had stayed in since they were little.

"Stay here," Bobby called over his shoulder to the others as they mounted the stairs. "And don't _touch _anything, got it?"

With Bobby's strength and help, they got up the stairs and down the corridor beyond them quickly. By the time they moved into the small room with two beds set against opposite walls, Bobby was doing most of the work. They deposited Sam on his usual bed, and Dean sank down on his knees beside his brother.

"Dean..."

"I's sorry I brought them here," Dean mumbled. "I know ya don't like cops... they were with us..."

"Its okay, Dean," Bobby told him firmly. He touched the older Winchester's shoulder. "You should get some sleep, you look like hell."

"Later."

"Yeah, I know," Bobby muttered. "I'll be back in a minute. I'd better get those cops settled somewhere before they start sniffing around for drugs or something..."

Dean hardly heard him. He leant his elbows on the bed and looked down at his brother, swallowing hard.

"Its all gonna be okay, Sam," he promised softly. "I'm gonna get you through this. You'll be okay."

He reached out a hand to brush Sam's hair away from his forehead.

And, so soft and weak that Dean thought that he might have imagined the sound, Sam moaned.

**Yeah, I know, evil cliffie! Same as before, if you're getting bored just don't leave a review and I'll stop writing. If you like... well, go ahead and press the button!**

**SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I only own this story, not Supernatural or Sam and Dean!**

_In the last chapter..._

_"Its all gonna be okay, Sam," he promised softly. "I'm gonna get you through this. You'll be okay."_

_He reached out a hand to brush Sam's hair away from his forehead._

_And, so soft and weak that Dean thought that he might have imagined the sound, Sam moaned._

_Now..._

Dean's hand fumbled for Sam's hand, his heart leaping up his throat. "Sam? Sam, you hear me?"

"D'n..."

Dean didn't care how quiet and weak Sam's voice was. It was there, and that was all that mattered.

"Sammy, Jesus, you scared me back there," Dean said, his own voice shaking in relief.

Sam's eyes opened a little, and Dean felt a fresh surge of releif at the sight of Sam's usual brown orbs gazing upwards. He squeezed Sam's hand slightly, and Sam turned his head towards his brother. His eyes stared straight through him.

"D'n," he whispered again.

"Yeah, Sam," Dean replied, rising up slightly to make sure that he was in Sam's line of sight. "I'm right here. We're at Bobby's."

Sam's eyes shut tightly in pain, and he let out a small whimper. Dean's heart wrenched and he tightened his grip on his brother's wrist. "Sam, what's wrong? C'mon, man, talk to me..."

With a huge effort, Sam forced his eyes open and looked up into Dean's eyes, his face twisted in pain. "D'n... I can't... can't get... out..."

"Get out of where?"

Sam's whole body shuddered and scarlet blood dripped from his nose onto his top lip. Dean's stomach lurched.

"Sammy!"

"Its... t-too... strong," Sam gasped. "D'n... hurts..."

"Its okay, Sammy, I'm gonna help you," Dean promised, rubbing Sam's cold arm.

"Dean," Sam whispered, his eyes going wide. Blood trickled from his nose and sideways over his cheek, bright red and thick. Then his eyes flooded with darkness, and the next second Dean was flying backwards. He hit the wall hard, his head snapped backwards, and everything went black.

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Bobby had shown Phil and Henrickson to a room, and was now taking Nancy to a small room in which he normally kept older books. There was a sofa there which unfolded into a bed, somewhere which should last her for the short time she was staying. At least, he hoped it would be a short time. He didn't like passing cops in the street, let alone having them stay in his house. He hoped Dean knew what he was doing.

He finished setting up the bed and glanced over at Nancy, who was still standing in the doorway, her arms folded tightly, her eyes wide. She reminded him of a bird, always expecting a predetor to attack.

"You okay?" he asked, feeling a little awkward.

She nodded. "Just... its been one hell of a day, you know?" she smiled shakily. Then she looked up at him, her smile fading. "Do you know how to help Sam?"

Bobby blinked. He hadn't been expecting such a direct question. "I don't know. I don't know what's wrong yet."

She nodded, clearly anxious. Bobby made for the door, and she stepped aside to let him out.

"Bathroom's across the corridor. I should get back to Dean."

Nancy nodded, her eyes on the floor. Bobby hesitated. Then he reached out and awkwardly patted her shoulder. She looked up, smiling sadly. Bobby opened his mouth -

And a huge crash errupted from somewhere down the corridor.

Bobby whipped around, his hand automatically flying to the gun he kept in the waistband of his jeans. As he ran into the corridor and pelted down it, he heard Henrickson and Phil shouting out in alarm from behind him but he ignored them. If it wasn't them, it was...

Sam and Dean.

He reached their room and shoved his way inside, his gun lifted ready. His eyes flickered around the room and then, slowly, he lowered his gun.

Sam was lying where Bobby had left him, one arm outstretched and hanging off the bed slightly, his head rolled to the side. On the other side of the room Dean was on the floor beside the wall, blood matting the hair on the back of his head. Bobby stared at him in shock for a moment, then tossed his gun aside and strode to Dean's side, pulling the older Winchester up into a sitting position and leaning him back against the wall. He leant forwards to look at the back of his head. The wound wasn't too bad, he'd just hit it on the corner of a picture frame and recieved a small cut. He was okay.

Bobby glanced up as Henrickson appeared in the doorway, a gun already in his hand.

"What happened?" he snapped, and then his eyes moved to Dean. "He's hurt? What happened?"

"He's okay, and I don't know," Bobby replied coldly, his eyes narrowing. "Put the gun away, you idjit, before you take someone's eye out."

Henrickson scowled. "I've handled a gun before," he replied, but he lowered the gun. He looked at someone down the corridor.

"Its okay, go back to your rooms," he called. "Its fine."

Bobby heard him go and went back to examining Dean's head. "What the hell, Dean?" he murmured. "What happened?"

He heard running footsteps and looked up to see Henrickson appearing in the doorway, a towel in his hand. He held it out, his mouth set in a firm line. Bobby took it, twitching his mouth into a smile that was more of a grimace.

"Thanks," he muttered.

He pressed the towel against the back of Dean's head, and Dean's eyes flickered open. "Sam?" he asked, his voice slurred and heavy.

"He's okay," Bobby assured him. "He's still asleep. What the hell happened?"

Dean blinked dazedly and raised a hand to his head, but Bobby slapped it away. Dean winced and scowled. "Sam... he woke up," he said slowly. "And then... I dunno. His eyes..."

Bobby's stomach dropped away. "Dean..."

Dean looked up at Bobby, his eyes hard. "He is _not _a demon, Bobby," he said sharply. "He's not, you hear me?"

Bobby just stared at him for a few moments. Then he pulled him upright and sat him down on his bed, his heart heavy. Dean took the towel and held it against his own head. Henrickson, who was standing near the door, looked from one to the other.

"Am I missing something here?"

"Doesn't matter," Dean replied quickly before Bobby could say anything. "I'm fine, Henrickson."

Henrickson narrowed his eyes, but nodded and turned towards the door. "Let me know if I can help," he muttered as he left.

Bobby glanced at Dean. "He's a decent guy. I mean, for a cop."

Dean managed a short laugh. He looked over at Sam, and Bobby caught a flicker of emotion in his eyes.

"Bobby, what the hell am I supposed to do?" he asked softly. "Its like his powers are coming back or something... like Yellow Eyes being here... and there's nothing I can do, is there?"

Bobby reached out and grabbed Dean's shoulder. "Shut it. This is tiredness talking. Go to sleep and in the morning-"

"But Sam, I can't just-"

"He'll be right next to you, Dean! Switch off the big-brother job for just a second and get some sleep, for gods sake."

Bobby turned and headed for the door. As he reached it, Dean called out.

"Bobby?"

Bobby turned. Dean was looking at Sam.

"Thanks, Bobby," he said.

Bobby swallowed hard. He didn't have to be a psychic to know what Dean was thinking: he was thinking about what John had said before he'd died. _If you can't save him, you have to kill him... _what the hell kind of thing was that to dump on your son? He paused in the doorway, looking from one brother to the other.

"We're gonna save him, Dean," he said, sounding stronger than he felt. "I promise."

"Thanks," Dean whispered again.

Bobby sighed. Then he moved out of the room.

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Nancy lay on her back, looking up at the ceiling. She knew that she was tired and that she should be at least thinking about going to bed or something, but instead she was just lying there staring upwards.

_Every evil thing... everything I used to read about... they're all real..._

She still couldn't believe it. Every time she had talked about the devil, every time she had asked her mother if maybe demons were real, she had been so close to the truth. But now that she knew about it all, she wasn't even sure if she wanted to. At least before she could kid herself into believing that she was safe. Now every night she would know that there were things out there waiting, maybe even watching her...

The door to her room opened and she sat bolt upright, sucking in a sharp gasp. Phil hovered in the doorway, as if ready to flee if she yelled at him or screamed. He had taken off his uniform shirt, wearing a white sleevless top underneath. His feet were bare as he took a hesitant step forwards.

"I just... wanted to see if you were okay. Thought if you were scared... well, you know."

She could hear his voice shaking. He hadn't come in here to check on her, he had come in because he was scared himself. And Henrickson wasn't going to be much comfort. Nancy shifted over and patted the bed beside her. He padded over and climbed up beside her, and they leant back against the sofa back together. They remained silent for a few moments.

"God I wish I'd stayed in bed today," Phil said at last, only half joking.

"Maybe, but then you'd never have known it was all real."

"I don't think I'd have minded."

She smiled. "Yeah, me neither."

He sighed softly. "Those guys... I can't believe they live every day of their lives like this," he muttered. "How do they keep going?"

Nancy shook her head. "I don't know. I guess they have each other."

"Yeah, well, Sam's not exactly looking peachy right now," Phil replied. "What do you think's going on with him?"

"I don't know. Did you see what happened?"

"Not really. I mean, there was this huge light, like white light, and when it cleared he was just standing there with all these demons dead around him. And then he just keeled over."

"You think he did it somehow?"

Phil looked at her. "How could he?"

Nancy hugged her knees to her chest. "I don't know," she replied. "But I hope he's okay."

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Dean couldn't sleep.

His head throbbed painfully, but that wasn't what was keeping him awake: he was used to sleeping with injuries. He was awake because his brain wouldn't stop replaying what had happened with Sam over and over. Sam had actually tried to hurt him... he thought of the fear and pain in his brother's face, and his stomach twisted. He turned his head, squinting to look at his brother in the dim light. Sam's skin was so pale that it seemed to glow slightly in the darkness, and the soft moonlight streaming through the window picked out pricks of sweat on his forehead.

Dean sat up and got out of bed. He slipped out into the corridor and collected a washcloth from the bathroom, wet it and returned to his room. He sat down on the edge of Sam's bed and laid the washcloth against his brother's forehead.

"What's goin' on with you, Sam?" he asked softly.

An image of Sam's brown eyes flooding with darkness flashed into his head. He was sure that Sam hadn't meant to hurt him, it must have just been some sort of reflex fluke. Sam wasn't exactly himself at the moment.

"Sammy?" he tested, touching Sam's shoulder.

Sam turned his head towards him slightly, but that was it. Dean sighed and moved down to sit on the floor with his back against the bed. Across the room was too far away. He had to be next to his brother, at least for tonight.

He had to work this out.

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Bobby put some water on to boil and then rumaged through his cupboards for the mug Dean always claimed whenever he came down. He wouldn't be needing Sam's this time. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. The Winchesters had way too much bad luck in their life, and they didn't deserve it. After the Yellow Eyed Demon had died, Bobby had been so sure that Sam was in the clear.

But maybe there was no way to save him from what he would one day become.

Bobby turned sharply at the sound of footsteps, and Henrickson appeared on the stairs. The police officer glanced at him, smiled slightly, and moved over to the table.

"Hey," he muttered. "You're up early, considering."

"So're you," Bobby replied warily, leaning back against the counter. "Couldn't sleep?"

Henrickson smiled humorlessly and sat down, picking at the rough wood. "I don't sleep," he said. "I'm an insomniac."

Bobby raised his eyebrows. Henrickson sighed.

"It means that I can't sleep properly-"

"I know what it means," Bobby interrupted. "Just a bit surprising, you know, a fine upstanding citizen like you."

Henrickson just shook his head. Bobby glanced at the water he was boiling. "You, uh, wanna coffee?"

Henrickson grinned. "I'm practically addicted to the stuff."

Bobby laughed and fetched another mug. By the time he had returned to the counter the water had boiled, and he poured out three cups of coffee. He listened hard as he did so, but he couldn't hear anyone else moving about upstairs. He left Dean's coffee on the side and moved to sit across from Henrickson, passing him a mug.

"Thanks," Henrickson said, taking the cup. "So you're a hunter, I guess. Like Dean."

"Yeah," Bobby said, sipping from his mug. "And you're special agent V.Henrickson. I heard you gave the boys quite a hard time of it at that bank. They were tracking down a shapeshifter."

"Yeah, well, back then they were just a couple of the most dangerous fugertives in the US," Henrickson replied. "I had no idea what they really were."

"Good thing too. Police don't really help much."

"I want to."

Bobby glanced up, raising one eyebrow. "You what?"

"I want to help," Henrickson said, his eyes holding Bobby's. "I want to become a hunter."

Bobby stared at him for a moment. Then he laughed and shook his head. "No, you don't."

Henrickson frowned.

"You don't want to get into this," Bobby explained. "Hunting in basically stepping in a huge pile of crap and getting stuck in it."

"How many hunts have you been on this year?" Henrickson asked. "How many people have you saved?"

Bobby shrugged. "At least one a month. More if I'm away from home, helping out a friend. What's your point?"

"My point," Henrickson replied. "Is that the last time I saved a life, I was on my way home from work and noticed that a little old lady was crossing the road when the lights weren't red. I became a policeman to help people, not to sit in an office thinking about cases I can't solve."

"You won't know what you're doing," Bobby said, shaking his head. "You haven't seen anything yet."

"Well, actually, I was hoping you would help me out with that."

Bobby blinked at him. "You want _me _to teach _you _to hunt?"

Henrickson gazed at him unblinkingly. "Yup," he said softly.

Bobby raised his eyebrows. Then he laughed and stood up. "You're crazy."

"Funny," Henrickson said. "That's what we're usually saying to you."

Bobby put his mug down on the counter and turned to look at the officer. "And what about Nancy? That Amici guy? What about them?"

"They'll go back home, maybe find another job. They're not built for this."

"And what makes you so sure that you are?"

Henrickson raised and lowered one shoulder in a shrug. Bobby rolled his eyes and picked up Dean's mug.

"Go home with the others, Henrickson."

"Did you say that to the Winchesters?" Henrickson called as Bobby headed for the stairs. "I'm guessing they came to you for help when they started."

Bobby turned at the stairs. "The Winchesters were different."

"Yeah, I've sorta got that."

Bobby shook his head and turned to start up th stairs. "You don't understand these things. You don't know what you want."

He left the room before Henrickson could argue any more. He reached the top of the stairs and moved down the corridor to the Winchesters' room. Inside, Dean was on the floor leaning against Sam's bed, his mouth open slightly, his head rolled to the side. Bobby moved into the room and put the coffee down on the bedside table, thinking that he would leave Dean to sleep, but Dean grunted and raised his head.

"Hey, Bobby," he muttered.

"Dean," Bobby replied, picking the mug up again. He held it out, and Dean took it gratefully.

Bobby looked at Sam, sighing. Dean had got a washcloth for him at some point in the night, but he looked worse. His skin was taking on a greyish tinge, and there were pastel blue smudges beneath his eyes. Bobby put a hand on Sam's wrist, feeling for a pulse, and found it weak and erratic.

"Damn it," he muttered.

"You don't know what's wrong," Dean said. It wasn't a question.

"No," Bobby replied. "Dean, if this is something to do with the Yellow Eyed Demon did then-"

"Don't say it!" Dean snapped, anger surging into his face. "He's not evil, he's not a demon and he _will_ be Sam again!"

Bobby sighed and sat down on Dean's unused bed. He rested his face in his hands. "Dean, I can't help you this time. But you know who can-"

"No."

"Dean, she helped us build another colt. Even if we won't do as she says if she can do anything to help Sam then isn't it worth the risk?"

"No!"

"Dean."

Dean looked away and took another sip from his coffee. Bobby sighed and turned his gaze on Sam.

"We have to sumon Ruby," he said softly.

**Okay, you know me, review and I'll update :). Too boring? Too much talking? Let me know!**

**SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I only own this story, not Supernatural or Sam and Dean!**

_"In some cases, the werewolf is portrayed as being invincible or even indestructable, with the decapitation of its head and removal of its heart as the only surefire way to kill it. In other superstitions, the weapon of choice is the silver bullet and other weapons made of silver."_

Henrickson ran his tongue over his lips and looked over at the other page, where there was an old drawing of a werewolf. It wouldn't be too hard to get some silver bullets, but a weapon good enough to take off someone's head? That would be difficult. And he didn't know how to take one down.

He would really have to convince Bobby to help him.

He looked up as the door to his room opened and Bobby appeared. The older man stopped short at the sight of Henrickson pouring over one of his books, and his eyebrows jerked slightly like catapillars having heart attacks.

"What're you doing?"

Henrickson gestured to the room around him. "There were books all over the place and... well, since I'm gonna be a hunter, I thought I should start researching."

"You're not gonna be a hunter," Bobby replied, moving past him.

He went to one of the stacks of books and began pushing them aside to get to one near the bottom. Henrickson watched him silently. He wasn't going to waste time arguing, but he was going to start hunting. What was his life really but a bunch of worthless circles going around and around? This was a way he could change everything, actually make a difference.

"How's Sam?" he asked after a few moments.

Bobby sighed, sitting back on his heels. "Not good."

"There's nothing you can do?"

Bobby shook his head. "I'm not a bloomin' miricle worker. But I think I know who can help. I think you've met Ruby."

"Ruby? The demon girl? But... Dean didn't seem very keen on her."

Bobby looked away, and something clicked in Henrickson's mind clicked.

"He doesn't know she's coming," he guessed.

"No," Bobby replied. He picked up one of the books and flipped through it, then rose to his feet and snapped it shut. "I'm going to sumon her now. Don't tell him."

"Its his brother-"

"Yeah, but these boys are like sons to me," Bobby cut across him. "I'm not gonna let Dean's pride get in the way."

Henrickson put his book aside and stood up. "Can I watch?"

"Jesus, I don't wanna teach any more hunters, okay?"

"I didn't ask you to. I just want to watch."

Bobby scowled and headed for the door. "Do what you want."

"Don't worry, I will."

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Phil lowered his mobile and looked over to where Nancy was curled up on an armchair, playing with a strand of her hair. He stood up, and she glanced at him.

"Okay," he said. "I called the station, told them we got freaked out and ran. Said we'd be back by tomorrow."

"We?"

He frowned. "You don't wanna go back?"

Nancy hesitated, biting her lip. "I wanna make sure Sam's okay. And Victor seems... different. I wanna make sure he knows what he's doing."

"You can't look out for everyone."

"I can try."

Phil shook his head, passing his mobile between his hands. "You live alone, right? You wanna stay with me and my brother for a few days, just in case you need someone there?"

She looked at him for a moment, and then nodded. Phil grinned, feeling a pulse of warmth. He had liked her for a while now, but she had never shown much of an interest in him. Maybe now they could get to know each other better. He moved over to sit beside her on the sofa bed, still playing with his mobile.

"You were really brave back at the station," he offered. "Saying that that woman could sacrifice you if she needed to."

Nancy laughed. "Are you kidding? I was terrified!"

"But you didn't back down."

She shrugged. "Neither did you when you had to help too."

"Yeah, well, I didn't have some black-eyed monster telling me that I had to hold still and bite my lip while she ripped out my heart."

"She was just trying to help Sam."

Phil shrugged. "What's the deal with him? Do you think he's some kinda anti-christ or something?"

"He's just a guy."

He nodded. "Maybe. Or maybe he's something else."

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Dean was watching Sam when he heard footsteps and lowered voices in the corridor. He glanced at the door, frowning slightly. One of the voices was female, but it didn't sound like Nancy. Maybe Bobby had called in some sort of psychic or something... the footsteps stopped outside, and Bobby pushed open the door.

"Dean? How's he doing?"

"No change. Bobby, we have to do _something, _I can't just sit here."

"I know. I've got someone who says she can help."

"Yeah?" Dean asked hopefully. "Who?"

Bobby stepped into the room and moved aside. Behind him, Henrickson appeared in the doorway and remained there, standing back slightly to let someone else in. And the someone who stepped inside was...

"Ruby," Dean muttered. He shot a death glare at Bobby. "What're you doing here, bitch?"

She folded her arms, her eyes glittering. "You'd better be nicer if you want me to play too, Dean," she said coldly. "I might decide that Sam isn't the guy for me after all."

"Good, get out!" Dean snapped. "And you," he added to Bobby. "How could you? You sumoned her, didn't you? I trusted you Bobby, I-"

"Don't you dare get angry at me," Bobby replied heatedly. "Just because you're too proud to help Sam, doesn't mean I am."

Dean stared at Bobby, shocked silent for a moment. "She won't help him, she wants to turn him evil! Like her!"

"So you can't even give me a chance?" Ruby asked.

"No."

Her eyes narrowed. "Fine. I'll go. Make sure you cremate Sam, if you burry him some other hunter might burn his bones, dickhead."

Dean just stared at his brother, his eyes smouldering. Ruby turned and started for the door, her hair swinging behind her. She had just reached it and was putting one foot into the corridor when Dean spoke.

"Wait."

She turned, scowling. "I don't do autographs."

He looked at her, swallowing hard. He knew that the mask he usually kept over his face had slipped, but he didn't care. He wet his lips.

"Can you help him?" he asked, his voice breaking.

"Maybe."

Dean rose to his feet and slowly took a step back from his brother's side. "If you do anything to hurt him I'll kill you."

"Baby, I'd like to see you try," Ruby replied, smirking at him.

She pushed past him and took his place, sitting down on the bed beside Sam. Dean bristled but bit his lip. Bobby touched his shoulder, but he ignored the older man. He knew Bobby had just being trying to help... but sumoning Ruby without asking first? How could he?

Ruby was putting her hand on Sam's chest, rubbing it as if trying to push some warmth back into his body. "Hey, Sam. Guess who. C'mon, wake up and I might give you a kiss. You won't even have to do any demon mojo or anything."

Dean made a 'humph!' from the corner, but Ruby ignored him. She kept her eyes on Sam. Dean looked at his brother, but there was no change in his appearance.

"We've tried talking to him, it doesn't do Jack," he told her. "If that's all you're gonna do, then-"

"Shut it, Dean," she muttered. "I wasn't talking to you."

Her brow had furrowed, and she was looking at Sam with a strange expression in her eyes. Not the intense, cool, laughing looks she normally had. Something that was confusion, anxiety... wait, Ruby was _worried? _Dean swallowed hard and shoved his hands into his pockets to hide the trembling. Ruby stared at Sam for a few more moments, and then sighed.

"Okay. I'll try something else..."

Her eyes turned black and she moved her hand up to Sam's head. Dean jerked forwards at once, snatching her wrist and pulling it back.

"Hey! No way are you gonna rewire his brain or something."

Ruby wrenched herself free. "Fuck off, Dean!" she snapped. "I'm not gonna do anything to his brain! I'm just gonna take a look, see what he did. Okay?"

"Dean," Bobby said softly.

Dean glared at her, but stepped back. Ruby turned to Sam again and lightly laid her hand on his forehead, her fingers trailing into his hair. She was looking down, but her eyes seemed to stare straight through him. Her eyebrows twitched slightly.

"Damn, Sam, what the hell," she murmured.

"What?" Dean asked at once. "What?"

Ruby didn't answer, just cocked her head slightly. At once, whispers filled the air. Dean started, caught off guard. He couldn't understand what they were saying, but he recognized his own voice, Sam's, their Dad's, Bobby's, Ruby's and countless others of people they had met in the past. Ruby bit her lip. Then,

"Shit," she muttered.

"What?" Dean demanded. _"What?"_

Ruby took her hand away from Sam's head and folded her hands in her lap, her expression strangely tender. "He thought it was going to kill you."

Whatever Dean had been expecting, it hadn't been that. His eyebrows jumped up his forehead. "Huh?"

"The demon," Ruby explained. "He had been feeling helpless all day, he didn't know what to do about the demons outside, and then that one went for you. He thought you were going to die so..."

"So?"

"So he let everything out at once. All his powers, everything that he was working up to being, it all just burst out." She shook her head. "You can't _do _that. Its like running a marathon when someone's cut your knees open. You have to work up to that kind of power, but he just let it all out and it nearly killed him. And now its just raging all over his body and he doesn't know how to control it."

"That's what he said," Dean realized. "He said that something was too strong, that he couldn't get out."

Ruby's eyes narrowed suddenly and she stood up sharply. "Damn it. Lilith's gonna come."

"What?" Bobby yelped. "But we've got protection, I've got a million devil's traps all over this place!"

"Sam's like a lit beacon," Ruby replied grimly. "All that power... every demon in America's going to sense it. She's probably already on her way."

"But Sam," Dean began, but Ruby cut him off.

"Sam's too fragile right now. One wrong move and he could kill himself."

Dean looked at Bobby. "Then we have to go, we have to get him outta here."

Ruby shook her head. "No, no... its too late. You should have called me sooner."

The three men stared at her, fear slowly rising inside each of them.

"What do you mean?" Bobby asked.

Ruby turned her head to look at the window, her eyes darkening. "They're already here," she replied. "And with the pied piper herself."

"Lilith," Dean murmured.

Ruby nodded. "She's out there. And she's coming in."

Even as she spoke, the lights flickered above them and they looked up as one at the ceiling.

"I take it that this is really bad?" Henrickson said softly.

"Shit," Bobby hissed. "Okay, okay, we'll have to climb out the back windows. Its the only way out. We can run into the woods and hide out until she gives up and leaves and-"

"Oh please, don't tell me you're really that stupid," Ruby interrupted. "Didn't you hear what I just said? Lilith will know because she will know where Sam is while he is like this. Hell, I could sense him and I'm nowhere near as powerful as her! You can't get away from her."

"Then what c_an_ we do?" Dean demanded.

Ruby looked down at Sam. "We hope that I can wake him up in time to help us. Otherwise... well, put it this way: you'll be visiting hell early."

Dean stared at Ruby in horror. Then he turned around.

"Okay, Bobby, grab as many weapons as you can and get down to the kitchen. Lilith is _not _getting up here, clear?"

"Dean-"

"Do it! And you," he added, turning to Henrickson. "Get Nancy and Phil and get out. Stay in the woods until we come and get you. If we're not back by nightfall, leave."

"Hell no, I'm staying here and helping!"

Dean felt his patience slipping, but Bobby took over for him.

"We don't have time for this, Henrickson. They're coming, and they're coming for Sam. You have to protect the others, we can't just leave them!"

Henrickson hesitated, and then nodded reluctantly. "Okay, fine. But I'm coming back to check for you guys if you don't come out by nightfall."

"Fine. Just go."

Henrickson turned and moved out of the room. Dean heard him calling for the others as he ran down the corridor. He turned to Bobby.

"We need rocksalt guns, holy water, as much as you can rig up. Now."

Bobby nodded, turned and rushed from the room. Dean looked at Ruby. "What do you mean, wake him up?"

"If I can wake him up he might be able to kill Lilith before she kills him. That's our only chance," she replied.

"It won't... It won't hurt him?"

"I don't know, but it'll hurt him more if she attacks him like this."

Dean paused, but then nodded. "Okay. Do it. We'll be downstairs holding them back... hopefully."

Ruby looked at him, and something flickered in her eyes. "Good luck. You'll need it."

"Thanks." Dean looked down at Sam. "Don't let me down now, Sammy," he said softly.

Then he turned and strode out of the room.

**So, there goes another chapter! Leave a review and I'll put up the next chapter, no more reviews and I'll just think that you've all lost interest and give up ;). C u next time!**

**SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I only own this story, not Supernatural or Sam and Dean!**

Dean reached the bottom of the stairs in time to see Henrickson ducking out the back door, the other two in front of him. Bobby was moving into the room from the study, a gun in each hand, two bottles of holy water held under one arm. He tossed a gun to Dean, and then a bottle. Dean caught both and pushed the holy water into his pocket. He could tell from the fear in Bobby's eyes that they were seriously screwed. His own heart was thundering wildly, pumping panic through his body. He wet his lips as he checked the gun and then turned towards the front door.

"I'm sorry, Bobby," he said. "We never should have come here..."

"We're going down together, Dean, that's always how it was going to be," Bobby replied loyally. "So skip the tearful farewell and get your head in this before it gets blown off."

Dean swallowed hard but nodded. "Okay. Then lets kill this bitch before-"

The door burst open, cutting him off, and a young girl, Lilith's signiture, smiled sweetly at them. Two other demons, two men, moved up to flank her, their black eyes narrowed. Dean lifted his gun, but it jerked out of his grasp and flew across the room. Bobby managed to fire at one of the men before his gun was ripped from his hands too. Lilith twitched her hand and Dean flew backwards into the wall. He heard glass shatter as Bobby was launched at one of the windows, but then books were tumbling down over him and he couldn't see anything. Before he could fight himself free he was lifted into the air and slammed against the wall by an invisible force which constricted around his chest, making him gasp.

"Dean, right?" Lilith asked, stepping forwards. "The stupid one?"

Dean scowled. "Get out, bitch. You're not touching my brother."

"No, you're right," she said thoughtfully. "I could probably kill him from here. Wanna see me try?"

"No!" Dean struggled against her hold, but she just laughed.

"And there's someone else here too, right? Ruby? God, she's really been a thorn in my side over these last few months. Its like she actually _likes _you or something."

Dean was hardly taking in what she was saying. All he knew was that Sam was up there with only Ruby to protect him, and although she was a demon he doubted that she could protect him from Lilith's wrath. His whole body was screaming at him to run, to get to Sam and do _something _before it was too late...

"You stay away from my brother," he snarled, his eyes wide with adrenaline and panic. "You stay away from Sam, you hear me?"

Lilith grinned. "Oh, honey, I don't think so. Me and Sam... we're like opposing football teams. In the game one of us will get trashed... quite literally in this case."

"DON'T YOU DARE!" Dean screamed, thrashing against her hold. "I WON'T LET YOU! I WON'T!"

"Whatever," Lilith said, stretching. "Well, not that this isn't fun but I, ah, have buisness."

And slowly, purposfully, she started towards the stairs.

"No!" Dean yelled. "No! Sam! SAM!"

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"Sam!" Ruby called, shaking Sam's shoulder in fustration. "Come on! Dean needs you. Damn it, Sam, you can't be buried that deep!"

She had tried calling him in his mind, she had tried screaming at him from outside him, she had tried slapping him across the face, and he wasn't responding to anything. She gripped her scalp, as if hoping to force some new information into her head that would help. She could head muffled shouting from downstairs - they didn't have much time left.

"Sam!"

She clenched her jaw, and then an idea struck her. She knelt down beside Sam, leaning forwards to whisper in his ear.

"Sam," she repeated softly. "Sam, if you don't wake up, she'll kill Dean. She'll rip his heart out of his chest and eat it, she'll tear his head off and gouge out his eyes. She'll drink his blood. And she'll make him feel everything. He's going to die, and it'll be all your fault..."

Sam's body jerked, and Ruby pulled back. Sam's eyes snapped open to reveal endless black voids which he turned on her, their deep swirls of blackness pulsing with hatred. She took a step back, suddenly wary.

"Its me Ruby, Sam. Remember me?"

He sat up slowly, his eyes fixed on her. His lip curled in a cold, animal snarl. Apparently not, then.

"Sam, calm down. Dean's downstairs and so's Lilith. If you wanna get mad at anyone get mad at her. Its okay. I'm you're friendly neighbourhood demon, remember?"

Sam rose to his feet, his eyes still strangely cold.

_Oh, shit..._

Ruby took a step backwards. "Its okay, Sam, its me, I'm not your enemy, okay? I'm on your side. If you just fight down the power for just a minute you'll remember and-"

She broke off in a harsh scream as a blast of power slammed into her, launched her into the air, and sent her into the wall. She tumbled down it and hit the ground, blood rushing from her nose and mouth. She rolled over to see Sam standing over her, his whole body tensed.

"Sam, don't!" she called, pulling back against the wall. "Just calm down, I-"

She screamed again as pain exploded in her head and then everything went black.

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"I'M GONNA KILL YOU, LILITH! IF YOU TOUCH HIM I'LL KILL YOU!"

Lilith looked around and then strode towards him, her mouth twisted in a smirk. "You honestly think that there's a way out of this, don't you? You think you can beat me?"

"I'm not letting you near him, if that's what you mean," Dean replied.

Liltih grinned and reached out to touch his face. Her fingers were freezing, like slender chips of ice trailing over his skin. He felt a shudder rush through his body and turned his face away.

"You can't stop me Dean," Lilith murmured to him. "And, deep down, you know it too. You know that Sam is evil, and that you can never get your brother back."

"He's not evil," Dean snarled.

"Oh yes he is, silly. He's the worst of us."

"He's not."

Lilith opened her mouth, and thunder roared through the air. Lightning lit up the room in a weird blue-white glare, and rain hissed over the house. Lilith looked up, frowning slightly.

"Why are you doing that?" Bobby demmanded. "You're dramatic enough, honey."

Lilith looked at her minions, confusion flickering over her face. "I'm not doing anything."

That was when Dean realized that he could hear footsteps on the stairs. At the same time, Lilith seemed to notice it. She glanced suspiciously at Dean, and then turned towards the stairs. She took a step backwards, and her minions moved forwards to her sides instantly.

The first thing Dean could see were the black eyes stamped on the face of his baby brother.

Sam stopped at the bottom of the stairs, his face strangely empty of anything but a dark, cold glare. His hands clenched slowly at his sides, and then unclenched. Lilith glanced at the other demons, and then took a step forwards, lifting her chin.

"Sammy. About time, huh? Your brother here was getting kinda repetitive."

Sam just looked at her. Dean felt a shiver run down his spine, and his heart jerked in his chest.

_Something's wrong... oh god, somethings really wrong..._

"Sam, you okay?" he called softly.

Sam didn't move his eyes from Lilith's. She lifted her hand, and Dean tensed, but nothing happened. Sam cocked his head slightly, and Lilith's eyes widened.

"No," she whispered. "That's not... you can't..."

Sam blinked - a short, sharp movement - and Lilith let out a choking gasp and her hands leapt to her throat. Sam glanced at the other two demons and they crumpled noiselessly to the ground, their bodies flashing and jerking. Sam turned his gaze on Lilith, who had sunk to her knees, gasping for air.

"Please... I'll let them go... I'll do anything... please..."

Sam just stared at her. Then he looked upwards and lightning and thunder smashed down on the house. Dean caught a glimpse of Sam turning his head towards him and his black eyes gazing into him before Sam's image flickered and vanished. Then the hold keeping him against the wall broke and he tumbled to the floor. He was vaugley aware of someone screaming his name, of the hard, burning smell of fire, of the whole house shaking as it caved in around him.

"Sam!" he yelled, knowing that Sam had gone.

_Where was he? How could he just vanish like that?_

Then something came down hard on his head, and everything dissolved into pain.

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Hundreds of miles away a few hours later, Cathy Andrews swore under her breath as the tyers of her car skidded on the wet tarmac and braked sharply. The wheels of her car locked, squealing over the puddles until she hit a patch of firmer road and managed to screech to a stop. She sat frozen, braced against the wheel, her heart pounding, catching her breath.

She didn't know where the storm had come from. One moment she had been driving to work, the next the sky had turned purple and lightning was splitting the sky into tenths, the rain pelting down on her, almost blinding her. Thunder growled as her, daring her to try to continue towards her apartment in Sonoma. Jesus, California was supposed to be _sunny. _She started as the thunder clapped again, and cringed back into her seat. She wasn't someone who scared easily, but there was something about this storm that terrified her. And if she had an accident, there was no one else on the road to help her.

Lightning flashed over her and she turned her head to look out of the window, sucking in a small gasp. Then she frowned. She could see something lying on the road... was that a _person? _She leant forwards and waited for the lightning to come again. When it did, she picked out a man lying on his side in the middle of the other lane.

"What the hell?" she murmured.

She tapped on the window, but the rain was driving so hard that she could hardly hear the sound herself. What was he doing out here? God, she could've hit him. Maybe he had been hit by someone and they'd left him... maybe he was drunk... she hesitated. Her parents would tell her not to get mixed up in something like this. They would tell her that he could be a druggie, a rapist, anything...

She pressed her lips together. Then she reached into the back seat and felt around for the tiny silver pocket torch her brother had given her years ago. She had never used it, but aparently it was worth having one rattling about in the back of your car. Her fingers closed around it and she slipped out of the car and into the rain. She ran across the road, her hair plastering itself to her face in seconds. She crouched down beside the man, looking around in case a car came, and shone her torch over him.

"Hello? You okay, mate?" she called, shouting over the storm.

He didn't respond. She took his shoulder and rolled him onto his back, slightly worried that his face might have been carved off or something like that. His face was in tact, but she could tell at once that there was something wrong. His face was white as a polo, he was soaked through, and blood was running thickly from his nose. She could feel him shivering through his sopping jacket.

"Jeez," she murmured to herself. "What happened to you?"

His eyes fluttered open and stared blankly ahead, his lips parting. "Dean..."

"No one here but me," she said, squeezing his shoulder gently. "Don't worry, mate, I'm gonna get you to a hospital or something. You'll be fine."

His eyes widened. "N-no," he rapsed. "N-no... hospitals... gotta... g-get... D-Dean..."

"Mate, you look like crap. I can't just leave you here."

He rolled his head towards her and shut his eyes tightly in pain. Her heart ached for him and she reached for his hand. God, she gave in quickly...

"Okay, okay," she said soothingly. "We won't go to a hospital. I'll take you back with me, okay? You'll be okay."

"Dean," he whispered. "I-I... n-need... Dean..."

"We'll call him later," she promised, wondering who the hell Dean was. "What's your name?"

"S-Sam..."

"Okay, Sam. Think you can give me a hand here?"

She began to try to pull him upwards. Jeez, he was _heavy. _She felt his weight ease a little as he struggled to help her, and wrapped both arms around his waist to give him as much support as possible.

"My car's right over there. C'mon."

He winced and his head lolled down with exhaustion. "D-don't th-think... I c-can..."

"C'mon, we can make it," she told him, biting her lip as she felt him shudder and fall against her slightly. He seemed so weak, so tired. How long had he been out here? What had he been doing?

After at least half a minute of slow limping they made it to the car and she practically pushed him into the passengar seat. She buckled him in and shut the door. By the time she had gone around the other side and got in, he was unconscious, his head resting against the window, his breath misting on the glass. She reached out and pressed the back of her hand against his forehead. He felt a little feverish, but he didn't seem to have anything broken. She slid the car into gear and drove towards Sonoma again, doing her best to control the vechile.

She had no idea how she was going to get him up the stairs.

**Dun-da-dun, huh? :) leave a review and I'll stick on another chapter. Hope you enjoyed it!**

**SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I only own this story, not Supernatural or Sam and Dean!**

Nancy sat against the trunk of a tree, trying to ignore the drops of mositure that landed on her hair and shoulders and the dampness of the ground. Phil sat against a tree opposite her, his elbows resting on his knees, massaging his temples in a bored, weary manner. Henrickson paced to and fro between them, playing with his gun, his jaw clenched. None of them could ignore the storm that had swept up out of nowhere, forcing them into burrowing under large shrubs for shelter. The storm ended some time near midnight, but the ground remained damp until dawn.

Which was when Henrickson had started pacing.

Nancy sighed and ran her hand over her forehead. She glanced at her watch.

"Its past nine, Henrickson. That count's as morning, right?" Phil called from the other tree, as if reading her thoughts. "They haven't come. They're not _going _to come."

"Give them a little more time," Henrickson began, but Nancy interrupted him.

"Victor, we can't just sit here. Can't we just go and check the house?"

Henrickson's jaw was working as he thought, his eyes staring in the direction of the Singer Salvage Yard. He was scared, Nancy realized. Scared of what he would find. She opened her mouth to tell him that they had to at least _try, _but at that moment Henrickson turned around and nodded.

"Okay, we'll go. You stay behind me and Phil until we know that everything's fine."

"I'm not helpless, Victor," she said, frowning, but she hovered behind them as they headed towards the house.

They broke through the tree line... and stopped dead.

Bobby's house was in ruins.

Half of it was still standing, but the half where the kitchen had been had collapsed, the skeletal wooden frames stretched out as if in the blind hope that the house could somehow rebuild itself. The jagged remains smoked slowly, fire flickering beneath some of the wooden pieces. Nancy stared at it in horror, her mouth opening in a small 'O' of shock. _Dean... Bobby... Sam... oh my god... _Henrickson strode forwards, stepping onto the wreckage, and part of it gave way. He pulled away but moved determindly forwards.

"Dean! Bobby!" he yelled, his voice strangely controlled.

Nancy glanced at Phil, who was apparently rooted to the spot. She grabbed his gun from him, steeled herself and followed Henrickson's lead.

"Dean? Can you hear me? Dean? Bobby?"

"Bobby!" Henrickson shouted. "Dean!"

Nancy took a quick look over her shoulder at Phil, who hadn't moved an inch. She stepped on a plank of wood which slid sideways beneath her, and she caught herself quickly. Henrickson let out a cry and crouched down suddenly.

"Victor?"

"I've got Bobby," he called. "I think he's okay... unconscious, but okay... you hearing me, Bobby?"

Nancy turned away, running her tongue over her lips. So Bobby was okay, but what about...

She caught sight of a boot sticking out amongst the rubble. She sucked in a small gasp and crouched down, laying down the gun so that she could push aside the rubble. Then she reached out and dragged Dean towards her, rolling him over. His face was coated in dust, and blood ran down from his temple. Apart from that he seemed unharmed. She breathed a soft sigh of relief.

"Dean?" she asked. "Dean, its me, Nancy. You okay?"

Dean's eyes flickered open and he looked up at her slowly. "Sam?" he muttered.

"We haven't found him yet."

"He's gone... vanished..."

"Huh?"

He shook his head and slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position. Nancy reached out to help him, making sure he didn't fall back.

"Careful, you might have a concussion."

"M'fine," he replied, wiping at the blood on his face.

Nancy pulled a tissue from her pocket and handed it to him. He nodded gratefully and began to dab at his temple.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Dunno. He killed Lilith..."

"Sam?"

"Yeah. He killed her and then he just... he vanished. Like, into thin air." He looked up. "Where's Ruby?"

"I'm up here."

They both looked up at the bloodstained, scowling and clearly angry Ruby who was standing on the edge of the second floor of the standing part of the house. She leapt down, hardly even blinking as she landed, and strode towards him.

"Your brother," she spat, "Knocked me out. And it _hurt._"

"Good," Dean snapped back. "You were _supposed _to be taking care of him."

"No, I was supposed to be saving your arse," she replied coldly. "I didn't realize he would be that advanced after being catatonic for so long."

"Well, I'm sure a nice 'sorry' will make it all better," Dean said sarcastically.

"For what its worth, I am sorry. Sorry you didn't die in when the building came down!"

Dean opened his mouth to snap back, but Nancy interrupted them. "Guys, this isn't helping anyone! What about Bobby and Sam?"

"Bobby's just fine," Bobby called, clearly ruffled that he was considered a problem. "Where's Sam?"

"He's gone, Bobby," Dean shouted back, climbing awkwardly to his feet. "He just disappeared, just like that. We have to find him before-"

"We will," Bobby interrupted. "We will, okay?" He looked around at his house, and his face flickered. "Shit..."

"Sorry," Dean murmured.

"Wasn't you, son, wasn't any of us. Doesn't matter, I'll rebuild it or... something..." his voice trailed off as he looked around at the remains of his home. "Jesus..."

Nancy fingered the cross at her throat, sending a short prayer skywards for the others. Especially Sam.

_What the hell happened? God, I hope he's okay..._

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Sam drifted in and out of consciousness for a long time before he slowly began to pull himself towards being fully awake. He was lying on something that was very comfortable, which was strange because for the last few moments he could recall he had felt really, really, _really _bad. He had a vauge memory of being pulled and pushed and being wet and a pain in his head so great that he could hardly think. But now... now was nice.

He opened his eyes slowly and found himself staring at a photograph of a young laughing girl being hoisted high in the air by a man. The photo was standing on a clear glass coffee table, and on the other side of the table was a wall with a TV against it. Book shelves stretched out either side of the screen, filled with weird ornaments, more photos and the ocasional book. The floor was pannelled wood. He was lying on a yellow sofa with a pale cream duvet over him, his head resting against one of the arms. Someone had taken off his jacket and shirts but, thankfully, had left his jeans on. Which were damp... he shifted a little, frowning. His head didn't hurt anymore, but his nose felt strangely wet.

"Well, I _am _sick. Yeah, I know I don't sound it but that's... that's because I'm throwing up. Yeah. I feel like crap. I want to die. Uh-huh. I don't know, maybe next week? These stomach bugs are pretty unpredictable, you know? Yeah. Cool. Thanks Micky... what? Fine, I'm a shit liar, but don't tell the boss that. See ya."

He turned his head towards the voice, but the back of the sofa blocked his view. He tried to sit but but his head seared and he let out a small moan. He heard a small intake of breath from behind him, and then footsteps moving over. A few seconds later, a girl with shoulder length black hair and sparkling blue eyes came into view above him. She was slightly wet too, and her eyes flickered with concern as she looked down at him.

"Hey, mate. Sam?"

"Uh, yeah," he rapsed. His throat was dry. "Who're you?"

"I'm Cathy, I'm the person who saved your arse last night," she said, a little put out that he didn't remember. "I found you in the middle of the road, soaking wet, half dead. And you don't wanna know how hard it was getting you up those bloody stairs, you hardly helped at _all._"

"S'ry."

She looked a little uneasy. Then she turned and strode away, her cheeks flushing. "Damn, don't look at me like that. You're like a wounded puppy."

He felt a grin spreading over his face and tried to sit up again, but another wave of pain rushed through his head. He groaned, pressing a palm to his forehead.

"Didn't you get it the first time? Moving bad. So stay still."

Obiediantly, he stopped moving and lay still. He heard the sound of a tap running and wondered what she was doing. Then his head turned to more important questions: _What the hell am I doing here? How the frick did I end up in this place? What happened to me? _He turned his head as she returned and put a glass of water down on the coffee table before perching on the edge of it.

"Okay, c'mon." She reached out and took his shoulder, gesturing with her free hand that he should sit up. He raised one eyebrow.

"You just told me to stay still."

"And now I'm telling you to sit up. Unless you want a nice pink straw?"

He grimaced and then began to ease himself upwards. His head screamed in protest and he began to slip back, but she was there to hold him in place this time. She grabbed a large cushion and put it behind him, so that he could lean back and still be sitting up. Then she handed him the water. He accepted it gratefully and took a sip. She watched in silence. After a few moments, he looked up.

"What happened to me?"

"You don't remember?"

He shook his head. She sighed and folded her arms, leaning her elbows on her knees.

"Well, I sure as hell have no idea. You were just lying in the road. You think someone beat you up or something?"

He shook his head again. "I don't think so."

"Well, if it helps, you said 'Dean' quite a few times. Actually when we were getting up the stairs you yelled, 'Dean, please, I can't' and we almost got caught by Mrs. McRay."

"Dean?" Sam frowned.

The name meant something to him, sounded familiar and comforting, but he couldn't remember who Dean was. Cathy was watching him, waiting for some kind of response, so he shrugged.

"I dunno, I can't remember. I mean, I recognize the name but... I dunno."

She bit her lip. "Well, that's okay. Maybe it'll come back to you, huh?"

She reached into her pocket and brought out a tissue, and then held it out to him. He blinked at it, confused.

"Uh, that's okay, I'm not that upset."

"No, idiot, you're bleeding again."

"Bleeding?"

Rolling her eyes, she shifted forwards and dabbed at his top lip. The tissue came away bright red. He touched his nose and felt the blood, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

"How long've I been doing that for?"

"Every hour or so. I've no idea what causes it."

"Huh."

He frowned. Cathy smiled suddenly and shrugged. "Never mind, probably nothing. You hungry? You wanna have some breakfast?"

Sam nodded, still looking at the blood. "Yeah, okay."

She grinned. "Good. Cos I do some mean bacon and egg."

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"I'm fine. Nancy let go of me, I'm fine!"

Dean brushed her hand away as she tried for the third time in half an hour to clean his temple. They had gone to the nearest motel, bringing with them what little they could salvage from Bobby's ruined home. Now, Dean paced around the room, his temper short, his eyes narrowed. Every time Nancy tried to clean him up a little he practically snapped her head off. Henrickson and Phil were sitting on one of the beds, Bobby on another fingering a cut on his cheek, and Ruby was slouched in an armchair with her legs over one of the arms. Dean circled them all endlessly, his teeth clenched as he thought.

"He's not answering his mobile," he muttered for the fourth time.

"He didn't have it, did he?" Henrickson shot back. "You looked through it 'cos you thought you might find some clue as to what was wrong."

"Yeah, yeah," Dean said irritably. He looked at Ruby. "Why the hell can't you find him? You said you could sense him."

"He let out a lot of power when he blew up that house, Dean," Ruby replied. "It'll take time for it to build up again, if it builds up at all. I've already told you that."

"Why hasn't he called? Where the hell did he go?"

"For god's sake, Dean, sit down and let Nancy patch you up," Bobby said, his own temper snapping. "You're not gonna help Sam right now, not with that concussion."

"I have _not _got a concussion!"

"Dean, please?" Nancy asked softly.

Dean scowled and threw himself down on one of the chairs, muttering coldly to himself. Nancy leapt forwards at once and began to clean him up. Dean sat waiting, one hand tapping insistently on his thigh, his knee jiggling up and down.

"But he has to be somewhere close," he burst out after a few moments. "I mean, he couldn't have gone far, right?"

"Dean, we - don't - know!" Henrickson said, balling his hands into fists.

"Just wait, Dean," Ruby replied at the same time, lifting a hand to her head. "I won't be able to hear anything when you're bawling in my ear all the time."

That shut him up. He ran his tongue over his lips, waiting impaitently for Nancy to finish cleaning the wound on his head. Then, when she finally moved away, he leapt up and began to pace again. Across the room, Phil sighed and rose to his feet.

"Okay, I'll see you guys."

"Huh?"

Henrickson wasn't the only one to look up in surprise: Bobby, Ruby and Nancy followed his gaze. Dean just kept pacing. Henrickson stood up, frowning.

"Phil, what're you talking about?"

"I've had enough of this, Henrickson," Phil replied, gesturing to the small motel room they were standing in. "All of this its just... its not my life. I'm sorry about Sam, really, but I'm not gonna be able to help and I've got a brother back home wondering where the hell I went. So, if you don't mind, I'm out."

Henrickson opened his mouth, closed it, and then nodded slowly. "Okay. Take a cab, we'll need the truck," he muttered flatly, turning away.

Phil turned to Nancy. "Nancy? You coming?"

Nancy glanced at Dean, biting her lip, but Henrickson took her shoulder.

"I think you should go, Nancy. You've done enough for these guys, and Phil's right - this isn't your life."

"But Sam... I could help-"

"Yeah? Help how?"

Nancy fell silent, her eyes flicking between Henrickson, Dean and Phil. Then she sighed and nodded, moving to Phil's side.

"Okay. Will you call me, though? Just to let me know if things are okay?"

Henrickson nodded.

Phil took Nancy's hand and led her towards the door. She looked back at the others. "Bye," she said softly, and then even more quietly, "Bye, Dean."

He barely heard her, grunting distractedly in response. She pressed her lips together and then followed Phil from the room, the door slamming shut behind her.

Across the room, Bobby whistled and Henrickson turned to him.

"What?"

"'This isn't your life' huh?" Bobby asked. "Funny, how come you can say it to other people but other people can't say it to you?"

Henrickson's eyes narrowed. "Because I think that this _is _my life. And I've got nothing waiting for me back home."

Bobby just muttered something under his breath and went back to examining the cut on his cheek. Henrickson watched him for a few moments before crossing to the bed and sitting down again, resting his head in his hands. Ruby turned her eyes towards the ceiling once more, her shoulders heaving in a silent sigh.

Dean paced.

"Can't believe we're just sitting here doing nothing," he muttered.

No one said anything.

Dean stopped and looked out of the window. His brow furrowed slightly as he saw Nancy and Phil getting into a taxi. Had they said they were leaving? He had been too wrapped up in his own thoughts to notice. He raised his eyes to the sky as the taxi rolled away.

_I'm gonna find you, Sam. I promise._

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Cathy was right - her bacon and eggs really were good.

Sam felt a little awkward sitting in her kitchen eating all her food. She had been so amazing, taking him in and feeding him like this. He didn't deserve it. Hell, he couldn't even remember what kind of person he had been before. She had borrowed some more jeans for him from someone living down the corridor who apparently owed her big time for a past favour, and had found one of her ex-boyfriend's T-shirts in the bottom of her wardrobe. Yes, _ex-_boyfriend. She was single.

And he liked her. She was chatty and breezy and completely mad at some points, but she was great to talk to. Already he knew that she had a brother, three sisters and a mum, because her dad had died in a car accident a few years back. Her eyes sparkled when she talked, lighting up like twin stars.

"So," she said suddenly. "I guess you can't really tell me much about you, right? I mean, unless you're completely faking and you're actually some kind of serial killer."

"There's always that," he agreed, grinning. He frowned. "I don't have any parents."

"You remember?"

"Not really, its just a feeling. But I'm pretty sure."

"Maybe Dean was your father?"

"Maybe." Sam rested his head against his fist. The headaches had become considerably better after he had eaten, dimming to a quiet throb in the back of his mind. Bearable. His nose kept bleeding though, like Cathy had said, at least every hour or two. It wasn't painful, just really annoying.

Cathy stood up, taking his empty plate to the sink and dumping it there along with hers. She turned to look at him, leaning back against a cabinet, and he span around on his stool to face her.

"I'll get outta here as soon as I can," he promised. "I mean, I can leave now if you like..."

"No, I don't mind." She flashed him a smile. "Its not every day I get to have a guy like you all to myself. It was getting kinda quiet around here."

He chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "Do you ever keep anything in your head?"

"Nope. Waste of time. It'll come out one day, why not make it now?" Cathy ran her hand through her hair, sighing through her nose. "Well, do you wanna do something? Watch some TV, go get some chocolate, whatever?"

"I don't... ah..." his voice trailed off as a sharp spear of pain rushed through his head. He put a hand to his forehead, wincing. "Uh, I'm... okay..."

_Sam? What's wrong with you?_

His stomach turned over. The voice was familiar and yet distant, and it scared the hell out of him.

_Sammy... pick up where he left off... houdini outta this one... sonuvabitch..._

Sam heard someone calling his name and felt hands gripping his shoulders. He forced his eyes open and lifted his head to see Cathy holding him, her eyes flickering with concern. He had slipped off his stool slightly - she must have caught him on his way down. Embaressed, he grabbed the table and pulled himself back on, wincing as his head seared.

"Sam?"

"I'm okay... sorry."

"What happened?"

"I... I dunno. There was this voice, like someone I knew, but I can't remember." He looked up at her, his hands trembling in his lap. "I can't remember..."

She shifted closer, putting her arm around him. "This is good, though. It means you're starting to remember little bits. So now it won't be long till the whole thing comes back, see?"

He grimaced. "Maybe."

_Sammy? Sam! _The voice sent icy shudders down his spine and he shifted uncomfortably, biting his lip.

He just didn't know what to think anymore.

**Okay, that's your lot for now! Leave a review and tell me what you think and I'll stick up the next chapter for you. Hope you liked it, hope it wasn't boring!  
**

**SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I only own this story, not Supernatural or Sam and Dean!**

**Recap: So, Sam went demon and destroyed half of Bobby's house but then snapped out of it but managed to transport himself all the way to Sonoma, California and got picked up by a rather nice girl called Cathy. However, he has no memory of his life or Dean. Dean is going wild trying to work out how to find his brother but has Bobby, Ruby and Henrickson to help him. What will happen next? Dun-da-duh!**

Dean paused outside the motel room, swinging the bottles of beer from his fingers. It had been a whole day since Sam had vanished, and they'd found no trace of him. Nothing.

And nothing just wasn't good enough.

He knew that the others were fed up with his short temper, but he couldn't help it. This whole thing was just so messed up. He had no idea what to do, and he was supposed to look out for Sam. He was supposed to take care of his baby brother. So why the hell did he keep screwing up? He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself before stepping into the motel. Ruby and Henrickson were deep in conversation, and Dean's heart leapt but then he caught the gist of it.

"No, demons are the only ones the devil traps work on. But they don't work with all of them, the higher power demons can break out. You just have to know what you're dealing with."

Henrickson nodded, concentrating hard on what Ruby was saying. Dean held back a snort; so Henrickson was still trying to be a hunter? Bobby clearly wasn't showing him anything yet, but Ruby didn't seem to mind. But then, she never did. They both looked up as he closed the door, and he held out two of the beers.

"Got some for you. Any news?"

Ruby shook her head as she reached for the beers, and Henrickson said, "Sorry, Dean."

Dean held back a snarl of fustration and looked towards the bathroom door. For some reason the bathroom was the best place Bobby could get internet reception on his laptop, so it had become the man's new home.

"You don't wanna go in there," Ruby advised. "Bobby's been in a bad mood all day."

Dean was just sitting down on one of the beds when the bathroom door flew open and Bobby strode out, a group of papers covered in scribbled notes held high in triumpah. Dean jerked up to his feet, slopping beer onto the floor.

"Bobby, tell me you got something."

Bobby grinned. "I got something."

Ruby's eyebrows shot upwards. "You have? Seriously?"

Bobby shot her a glare at her surprise and held out the papers to Dean. Dean took them, his heart thumping hard in hope. He leafed through them, his hope slowly dying. Then he looked up, his smile flat, and thrust the papers back to Bobby.

"Bobby, these are demon omens. What the hell has this got to do with Sam?"

Bobby glanced at Ruby again, who shrugged and looked at her nails. Bobby turned back to Dean.

"Okay, Dean, don't freak out."

Warning bells went off in Dean's mind at once, and his eyes narrowed. "Sam is _not _a demon," he snarled.

"No, he's not, but he has demonic qualities which are getting out of control," Ruby called. "Those qualities can set up demon omens."

"But he is not-"

"Dean, do you wanna find your brother or not?" Bobby demanded.

Dean fell silent. Then he ran his hands through his hair and nodded. "Okay, fine. What've you got?"

Bobby smiled gratefully and looked down at his notes, sifting through them.

"Riiiiiiiiiiight... so the weird thing was that there was hardly any demonic omens over yesterday. Ruby here thinks that its because Sam's power was so great that it wiped out all the others nearby, or at least scared them into hiding for a while. But then, that means that he wasn't giving off anything either. So I decided to go back a little and get this - the night Sam destroyed the Salvage Yard there was a huge eletrical storm in Sonoma, California."

"And there was a storm that night over the Yard which came on really fast and then just vanished," Henrickson added. "I remember."

"_California?_" Dean repeated. "But Bobby, thats right across the damn country! How the hell could he have got that far?"

"I don't know, Dean, but its all we've got to go on right now."

Dean rubbed his eyes with both hands, clenching his jaw. Bobby was right, it was all they had. And it was better than nothing, right? He had do something, no matter how little it meant. He couldn't just sit there and do nothing. And what if Sam really was there? He lowered his hand and started for the door.

"Okay, lets go."

"Now?"

Dean turned. None of the others had moved. "What d'you mean?"

"We don't know what we're up against," Henrickson began, but Dean cut across him.

"You aren't even a hunter, damn it! And Ruby, you can tell us what the hell we're up against when we get there. We're going. Now."

He strode out of the door and headed for the Impala. After a few moments he heard the sound of the others following him.

_Please be there, Sam, please, _he begged silently. _I can't deal with this._

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_Sammy... you can't save me, that's just how it is... we're not gonna argue about this anymore..._

Sam rocked on the sofa, his fingers pressed to his forehead. He no longer cared what the voices meant, he just wanted them to go away. They were tearing his head apart.

"Go away, go _away_..." he muttered through clenched teeth, squeezed tightly shut.

"Sam?"

He turned, wincing as he jolted his head. Cathy stood across the room, hovering in the doorway of her bedroom, twisting her hands anxiously. She knew that he was in pain, but since he had refused to go to a hospital there was nothing she could do to help, and he knew that it was killing her. She walked over to him, leaning over the sofa back.

"Its getting worse, isn't it?"

He nodded. "I dunno... i just can't... think straight..."

He shut his eyes again as pain rolled over him. He vaugely felt Cathy's hand on his forehead, and then on his arm.

"You're burning up. You wanna drink?"

"Okay..."

He heard her moving away and forced his eyes open again, finding himself looking at the photograph again. He now knew that it was of Cathy and her dad when she had been little. Cathy came back into sight and handed him a glass of water, which he drank gratefully.

"Thanks," he muttered as he lowered the glass.

"Sam, I really think you should see a doctor. Something's really wrong."

"Can't..."

"Why?"

Sam didn't answer. The truth was, he didn't know. He just knew that he had to avoid hospitals when he could. Hospitals meant police and police meant questions...

_Yeah, they kinda saw me... go find Dad..._

He let out a small moan, gripping his head and hunching over to lean his elbows on his knees. He felt the sofa beside him dip as Cathy sat down, and then felt her turning his face towards her with one hand. He opened his eyes to see her looking at him anxiously, pulling a tissue from her pocket.

"Jeez, mate, you're bleeding again... maybe its some kinda brain tumor or something..."

He couldn't find the energy to care. He just sat there while Cathy dabbed at his nose carefully. Her face was taut with worry, and he felt a small rush of pride that she was worried about him. That meant that she liked him, right? That she was interested?

_God, Sam, you're practically dying, you don't know who you are, and all you can think about it whether some girl you hardly know likes you or not... smooth..._

At least this time it was his own voice in his head, not someone elses. He felt his eyes drooping and forced them open again. Cathy removed her hand from his face and slid it down to his arm, squeezing him gently. It took him a few moments to realize that she was calling his name, and he quickly tried to focus on her.

"Ah, sorry... what?"

"I _said, _why the hell don't you let me take you to a hospital? I'm really worried, Sam."

"M'fine."

"Yeah, I can see that."

She touched his forehead again, and then stood up and pulled him downwards. He followed her hand blindly until he felt the arm of the sofa against the side of his head and looked up at her, confused.

"Just lie still for a second, I'm gonna get you some ice," she told him, moving out of sight.

Sam nodded, feeling his eyes drooping again. Before he knew it, the voices were swarming in on him again, blocking off everything else.

_I want you to be honest with yourself, Sam!_

_Sam... good to... see you up and around..._

_I promise, okay?_

_Shut up, Sam!_

A moan escaped his lips and a huge shudder rolled over him. He felt his body arch slightly, pushing him over onto his back. He shook again and heard Cathy call his name anxiously, but he couldn't respond. His jaw was clenched as pain pulsed through him, and he moaned again.

"Sam? Sam!"

He forced his eyes open, caught a glimpse of Cathy crouching before him gripping his arm. Funny, he hadn't even felt it...

"Sam, look at me. Sam! Listen to me, just concentrate on breathing, stay awake. I'm calling nine one one."

As she moved away, Sam felt something else roll over him. Not pain but... power. A huge, imense power that made his eyes shoot open and his whole body freeze. For a few moments he just remained still, feeling the energy. He didn't know what to do... should he be fighting this? Was this good or bad? Maube he was remembering... and then the power grew abruptly and he backtracked. This was bad. This was really bad. He couldn't control it, he coudn't hold it back...

"Cathy," he rasped. "Ca...thy..."

"Sam?"

He heard her moving over to him. Then something in the back of his mind exploded and everything turned red.

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Cathy was dialing when Sam rasped out her name. She spun around, dropping the phone, and rushed back to him. Her heart fluttered in her chest, panicky and fast. She didn't think she had been this scared in her entire life. Sam sounded so weak, as if he was in so much pain that he could hardly even speak. She rounded the sofa and crouched down before him. His eyes were clenched tightly shut, his whole body tensed as if waiting for a blow.

"Sam?" she whispered, her heart thudding. "God, Sam..."

His eyes opened, and she flinched back in horror: they were completely black. Sam stared at her for a few moments, and then sat up, his movement slow and deliberate. Cathy stared at him in shock, her mouth slightly open.

"Sam, what's wrong with your eyes..."

Her voice trailed off as Sam rose to his feet, suddenly towering over her. His top lip curled in a cold, cruel smirk. She began to scramble backwards, heading for the door, but he reached down and grabbed her by the front of her top. She gasped as he lifted her up to his level, his black eyes glistening.

"Sam, stop! Sam!"

He cocked his head slightly, his brow furrowing. Then he spoke, his voice quiet and cold.

"Where's my brother?"

Cathy opened her mouth and closed it again, speechless. Sam gazed at her, his face hard as stone.

"Where's Dean?"

"I... I don't know..."

"Who are you?"

"I'm Cathy. You know? R-remember? Sam?"

His eyes narrowed coldly. "You're lying to me."

"No, I'm not, I swear, I-"

She broke off in a gasp as he threw her across the room in one swift movement. Her head connected with the wall and white dots dominated her vision.

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When she opened her eyes again, the sky outside the windows was darker and the lights in her apartment were still off, turning everything into shadows. She lifted her head, and then realized that she couldn't move her hands. Was she... tied up? She frowned, pullling against the bonds and realized that she was tied to one of her kitchen chairs. Across the room, one of the shadows moved and she started in surprise and fear.

_Oh god... oh god... I'm going to die..._

But she couldn't believe that Sam was doing this intensionally. He musthave some sort of disorder, something that was messing around with his head. She pulled back automatically as he stepped forwards into the strip of light streaming in from the window. His eyes were still black, and he almost looked like a different person he was so cold and tense. Evil... she shuddered and pressed herself back against the chair.

"Sam?" she whispered. "What is it? What's wrong with you?"

Sam moved right up to her, so that she could feel his soft, cool breath on her face. He ran his hand over her cheek, caressing her softly, and she shivered in disgust. She would have loved for this to happen only a few hours ago, but now... this wasn't him. It wasn't the same person.

"Sam, stop," she hissed through clenched teeth. "Let me go. Please."

Sam turned his head towards the window, his eyes narrowing. "Dean's here somewhere," he murmured.

"That's good, you're remembering stuff," she said earnestly. "Just let me go and I'll help you find him."

He turned his eyes on her. "You won't touch him," he snarled. "No one will hurt him. No one in the world will ever hurt him again."

"What?"

He took a few steps backwards and lowered his head. Outside, dark clouds swirled across the sky and a bolt of lightning speared down on them, shattering the window. Cathy let out a short squeal, flinching away, and the chair tilted over. Her head knocked against the floor, making her gasp in pain, and she stared up at Sam in raw fear. From this angle, he was an awesome image of power. His eyes sparked as he lifted his head, a smirk chasing across his face.

"Sam, what are you doing?" she whispered.

"No one is going to touch Dean ever again," Sam snarled. "I'm going to stop them all. Everyone."

Then the lightning snarled in again and he vanished. The lightning caught at the sofa and set it alight, and Cathy's stomach clenched in horror.

"Oh god... shit," she whispered.

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Six hours.

Six bloody hours on a plane, and Dean hadn't stopped shaking for even one of them.

But, point being, they had reached Sonoma and they were on their way to find Sam. Bobby had borrowed a car from a friend of his, and they had made for the nearest motel. They had no idea what state Sam would be in when they found him, and Dean wanted somewhere to take him if he needed any medical help. Now, Ruby was trying to locate Sam as best she could.

"We're in the right place," She had told them. "I'm just having trouble getting a fix... its all so messed up..."

_Got that right, _Dean had thought.

There were no storms around, so they had no idea where to go on that area. And so, as evening looked over them, Dean found himself impaitently jiggling his leg up and down again, gnawing on his lip as he watched Ruby think. Bobby and Henrickson sat nearby, Bobby sometimes shooting Dean sympathetic looks. Dean drummed his fingers on his knee, squeezing his eyes shut.

_Come on, come on... please, come on... give her something, Sam, please give her something..._

Abruptly, Ruby sucked in a gasp and sat bolt upright.

"Jesus Christ..."

"What? Have you found him? What?" Dean demanded.

Ruby looked at him with wide eyes. "There's just been a huge power explosion, and its moving... an apartment a few blocks away, that's where its started... Dean!"

"I'm already on it," Dean said, already halfway to the door. "Bobby, Henrickson, move!"

As they reached the door, lightning split the sky in two and thunder rumbled. Purple clouds rolled in to swarm above them like millions of dark bees, rain screaming down on them as they rushed to the car.

"He's using too much power, there's no way he can keep this up," Ruby muttered as they ducked into the car. "For god's sake, Bobby, step on it!"

"We'll get there in time, Dean," Bobby promised as the car tore away from the curb.

"You'd better hope we do," Ruby replied softly. "If we don't it could very well mean the end of the world."

**So, with the end of the world looming up on us, what will happen next? If you like it, put up a review. I get reviews, I put up the next chapter. Hope you enjoyed the chapter!**

**SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I only own this story, not Supernatural or Sam and Dean!**

**Just as a warning since some people get a little touchy about religon, god is insulted in this chapter. This isn't meant to offend anyone, its just what the character is thinking about at that moment. Please no one get upset!**

Cathy couldn't breathe.

The choking fumes from the fire drove in on her, the fire roaring eagerly for her blood. She struggled against her bonds, uncomfortably aware that her movements were gradually becoming slower. She was going to die, and all because she'd found some hot guy on the side of the road and decided that it wouldn't be so bad if she helped him out.

"Sam!" she shouted, not really expecting an answer. "Anyone! Help me!"

Nothing. The fire alarms had been ringing for a while now, and anyone on her floor who could have helped here was long gone.

In short, she was screwed.

Her whole body shuddered as her lungs struggled to empty themselves of smoke.

"Someone," she panted. "Help me..."

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One of the rooms was on fire.

Dean pushed past the people flooding from the flat and raced up the stairs, his heart thudding in his chest. All he could think about was the image of Sam burning on the ceiling, his stomach slashed open... oh god, he couldn't lose another member of his family. Not like this. He reached the top of the stairs, where smoke was flooding through the corridors. A hacking cough wrenched through his throat and he stumbled forwards, unable to see.

"Dean!"

He turned to see Henrickson reaching the top of the stairs behind him. He ran past him, grabbing Dean's arm and dragging him behind him. Dean shut his eyes against the stinging grey masses pressing in on them, stumbling to a halt when Henrickson stopped abruptly. Henrickson kicked a door on their right down and ducked into the room.

"How the hell do you know which one?" Dean yelled, his voice cracked with the smoke.

"I've done a few fires in my time," Henrickson called back.

Dean's heart lurched as the fire across the room roared at him and he staggered backwards, squinting through the darkness.

"Sam! _SAM! _Sammy!"

"Help! Someone, help me!"

Both of them span around at the voice, and Henrickson made a dive for somewhere behind the counter. Dean followed him, managing to pick out a figure lying on the ground not far away. A girl. Not Sam... he swallowed hard and helped Henrickson to untie her from the chair.

"You know a guy called Sam? Tall, lanky, puppy eyes?" he barked at her as Henricksn pulled her clear of the chair. She stared up at him, choking out words through the smoke.

"Y-you're D-D-Dean?"

Dean's heart leapt. "Yeah, yeah! You know Sam?"

"He was here, but..." her voice trailed off in a cough, and Henrickson pulled her into his arms and made for the door.

Dean rushed after him, lifting a hand to sheild his eyes as the fire snatched at them. He had hated fires ever since that night in Lawrence when their mother had been killed, but he forced himself to remain calm enough to keep Henrickson in sight as they fled from the room. They pushed past the firemen who were on their way up, earning themselves a few angered and indignant shouts.

Outside, Bobby and Ruby were waiting impatiently. They moved forwards to help, but Henrickson didn't need it: he strode towards the car and sat Cathy down in the front seat.

"Breathe slowly and deeply," he instructed. "Someone go get her some water or something."

Ruby moved away, since Dean and Bobby weren't going anywhere if this girl knew something about Sam. Dean moved to Henrickson's side, his eyes fixed on her as she coughed.

"Where's Sam?" he demanded. "You said you knew him."

She looked up at him, struggling to find space between her coughs to talk. "Yyoure D-Dean... y-you're n-not g-g-gay are y-you?"

"What? No!" Dean scowled as Bobby and Henrickson sniggered and Ruby who was returning muttered, "Easy mistake to make."

The girl looked relieved. Dean frowned, but brought his attention back to the problem at hand. "Where is he?"

Her releif faded as she took the bottle of water from Ruby. "I... I don't know. I found him on the side of the road in a real mess, his nose bleeding, soaked through. He said he couldn't remember anything apart from his name. And he kept getting these headaches, and his nose wouldn't stop bleeding. Then today he was worse than ever, he could hardly even pay attention to anything I said. And then..." her voice trailed off, and Dean's blood ran cold.

"And then?" he prompted. "And then?"

Her gaze flickered over each of them, then she lifted the bottle to her lips again. "You wouldn't believe me."

"Try us," Bobby replied.

The girl looked at Dean, and something in her eyes flickered. Then she nodded. "Well, call me crazy... his eyes turned black. Like, completely black. And then he started this huge storm and vanished. He wasn't making sense, saying that he didn't want anyone to hurt you."

"He didn't want..." Dean let his voice trail off, his brow furrowing in confusion. _What the hell? This just keeps getting weirder and weirder..._

"You don't know where he went?" Bobby was saying.

"No," she replied, looking away. "He just vanished, there wasn't time..."

"I think I've got a pretty good idea," Ruby said. They turned to her, and she pointed to the sky over the beach a few miles away. Dean could see dark purple coulds swirling over the place, lightning snarling down from them. "Each time there's been a storm," she told them. "We follow the storm, we find Sam."

"I'm coming with you," the girl said at once.

Dean kneaded his forehead with his knuckles. Why did they always want to come? "You can't come, this could be dangerous," Henrickson was telling her.

She stared back at him stonily. "Well, excuse me but if I'd left him by the road he'd probably be dead by now. So I think I deserve to come."

Dean shook his head and ran around to the driver's seat. "We don't have time to argue, and I don't care. We're leaving now."

By the time he had started the engine, the girl, Henrickson, Ruby, and Bobby had piled into the car. Dean sped towards the beach, his eyes fixed on the dark clouds. Sam was causing this... how could he be? The last time Dean had seen him, Sam had been completely unconscious of his actions. Did he know what he was doing now? Dean wasn't sure what scared him more: a demonic Sam who didn't know what he was doing... or a demonic Sam who did.

"Who are you people?" The girl asked.

"I'm Victor Henrickson, Bobby, Ruby and you know Dean. We're looking for Sam."

"I'm Cathy."

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Furious grey waves smashed down on the sand, sending white spray up into the air. The lightning slammed downwards in jagged forks, burning sand left right and centre, sizzling as it speared into the water. The purple clouds swirled around and around, like a high, flat tornado. Thunder rumbled and growled threateningly, like a hell hound eyeing its prey.

And Sam stood in the centre of it all.

He tilted his head back and gazed up at the small tornado raging above him. The world was so dark that it looked as if it were midnight, although it was only late evening. He had never felt power like this before, a kind of power that took hold of you and held you so tightly that you knew you would never break free. And he didn't want to anymore.

The truth was, life was shit. Nothing good was ever going to happen to him. His brother was going to die because of him, and even if he somehow got out of it he would never lead the life he deserved. With all the evil in the world, there was nothing they could do to win. He had used to think that maybe praying might help him get back on his feet, help him to believe that he could improve his life and his brother's.

Huh. God. God was a joke. A sick, sad, pathetic joke. The only reason god was even talked about was because some people couldn't handle having to be independent and needed someone to pour their hearts out to when no one else gave a shit. Like now. Except he didn't feel like praying right now.

Sam spread his arms slightly, and fire burst into life in the centre of the tornado. It rolled out over the clouds, making them glow red and orange. Sam grinned, his whole body taught with excitement. He was ready for everything to end. He was ready for the peaceful silence after death that awaited him. He clenched his fists and punched one arm in the air, and blood-red lightning screeched across the sky. The tornado dipped downwards, whirling around him, tearing at his clothes and hair. His skin stung with the speed of the wind, but his black eyes didn't even blink. He watched as the wind soared around him, kicking up the sand and sending it flying over him in golden arcs. Magical.

_Sam! Sammy! SAM!_

Sam turned his head, his eyes narrowing. The voice wasn't in his head anymore. He sensed a machine stopping at the end of the beach, sensed a group of people sprinting towards them. Who were they? He shook his head slightly. It didn't matter. Everything would end soon, and nothing would matter. He looked up at the sky again, his eyes fixed on the fire swirling with the wind.

_SAMMY!_

Sam frowned. _Go away, _he commanded in his mind. _Leave me..._

He heard muffled shouts as his wave of power hit them, sending them flying backwards. They wouldn't bother him now.

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Dean slammed down on the breaks and stopped the car on the end of the beach. There was only one reason for this - there was no way he could get any closer. A huge black tornado span wildly in on the beach, kicking up the sand and sea in a wild spray and fire roared in the thrashing sky above it. He pulled back in the seat as a tree a few yards away groaned and then was ripped up into the air. It spiralled headlong into a bolt of lightning and burst into flames.

"Jesus," Henrickson whispered.

Dean looked up at the sky, swallowing hard. Then he kicked open the door and scrambled out. "Sam! Sammy!" he yelled. "SAM!"

The wind tore at him furiously, as if trying to rip him to pieces, and he staggered against it. He heard Bobby calling his name, and glanced over his shoulder to see the others getting out of the car.

"Stay back," he called, but they ignored him, as always.

"Dean, we have to stop him somehow!" Henrickson yelled, moving over to him. "He's going to kill someone!"

"Try everyone," Ruby replied, shouting over the wind. "He's going to kill us all unless he stops this!"

"Why? Why is he doing this?"

"Do I look like a demon shrink?" Ruby demanded. "Go!"

"SAMMY!" Dean yelled.

He turned and took a step forwards, but no sooner had he done so than a huge blast slammed into them. Henrickson flew backwards into the car and went limp while Bobby skidded right under the machine as he was knocked to the floor. Cathy let out a shrill shriek as she grabbed at the car, struggling to stay in the same place. Dean had fallen to his knees and skidded backwards, but he braced himself and dug his hands right into the sand, managing to stop himself. Ruby hadn't moved, but was clearly struggling to remain still.

"Looks like he know's we're here!" she called.

Dean gritted his teeth and forced himself up to his feet, struggling onwards. He expected another attack, but nothing came. Maybe Sam thought that he had stopped them... stopped _him... _Dean shoved the thought out of his head and pushed onwards, Ruby struggling beside him.

"SAM!" he yelled. "Stop it, please!"

If anything, the storm grew stronger. Dean couldn't even see his brother... he dropped to his knees as the wind rushed at him, his over-shirt billowing around him. He scrambled up to his feet again, hunched over like the hunchback of notradame as he struggled forwards. Clearly Sam wasn't taking in anything he was saying. Or shouting.

He was so close to the tornado now that he could see sand whipping around in it. He glanced around as Ruby let out a sharp cry and lifted her hands to her head.

"Sam, don't!" she yelped. "Don't shut me out now, I'm trying to help you! Sam!"

She let out a short scream, and then dissolved into nothing. Dean stared at the place where she had been in horror. He was on his own now... If Sam could take out Ruby without stopping the storm for even a second, then how the hell was Dean going to stop him alone?

But he had to try.

Dean was right up against the tornado now, and the wind was so strong that he was sure that his skin would come off. He caught a glimpse of Sam standing in the centre of the tornado, his head tilted back, his arms spread wide. Dean yelled his brother's name, but got no response. Only one thing left then... He gritted his teeth and then with a tremendos effort launched himself forwards. The tornado hit him like a punch in the face, and he let out a scream as he was flung sideways. Then he was into the eye of the storm and in the clear.

For a few moments, he lay stunned. Then he realized that he couldn't breathe properly. He sat upright, panting. There was hardly any air in here, it was all being sucked into the tornado. He would have to work fast before he became to weak to be any use at all. He twisted around and caught sight of Sam, who hadn't moved an inch.

"Sam!" he yelled. "Sammy! SAM!"

Sam's head jerked towards him, his arms lowering. Then he strode forwards. Dean actually shifted backwards a little, fear whirling through him at the sight of Sam's demonic black eyes. Sam reached down and grabbed him by the collar, lifting him right off his feet. Dean choked, clawing at Sam's hand, but it was as if Sam had turned to stone. He was unmovable.

"This world is over," Sam snarled, a demon's whisper speaking alongside his voice. "Its all over. Nothing's left for us, and I don't want it anymore."

"Sam you have to stop..." Dean gasped.

Sam glared at him coldly. "Not this time."

Dean's struggled against his brother slowly ceased. He couldn't do this... he was too late... he shuddered as he gazed into the eyes of a souless monster, and the end of everything.

**Could Sam really kill his own brother, along with everyone else? Leave a review and I'll tell you in the next chapter. Thanks for all the reviews so far!**

**SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I only own this story, not Supernatural or Sam and Dean! (Or the little speech from Houses of the Holy, for that matter!)  
**

**Thank you so much for all the reviews!**

_Then..._

_"Sam, you have to stop..." Dean gasped._

_Sam glared at him coldly. "Not this time."_

_Dean's struggles against his brother slowly ceased. He couldn't do this... he was too late... he shuddered as he gazed into the eyes of a souless monster, and the end of everything._

_Now..._

Dean moved his hands over to Sam's shoulders, trying to breathe as best he could with Sam's giant hand clenched around his throat.

"S-Sam... please, just listen," he rasped. "You gonna kill me? You gonna kill Nancy and all the other people we saved? And that girl who saved your life?"

"I'd be doing them a favour," Sam replied stonily. "We're all gonna die, whether its today or in fifty years time."

"Sam you're not yourself-"

"No!" Sam shook him slightly, his eyes burning. "No. I'm more myself than I've ever been before. I can finally see that all that shit about hoping, about trying to save people, it was all crap! It was all some stupid blindfold to pull over our eyes so that we would think that there was something worth living for."

Dean changed tack. "Yeah, there it is worth living for, Sam! Its worth _dying _for, w-what we do, and you believe that! You've just forgotten it a little, that's all. All you h-have to do is remember what we stand for. What Dad taught us-"

"Dad was nothing," Sam snarled. "John Winchester ran on revenge, not hope or justice or love. Just hatred. Just like the things we hunted."

"Sam, listen-"

"NO!"

A fork of lightning rushed in on them and slammed into the ground just inches from them, sending sparks into the air. Dean let out a choking gasp.

"S-Sam, you're killing me! Leggo!"

Sam tightened his grip. "I'll see you in hell," he snarled. "Its where we're all going to end up."

"N-No, Sam, you're not going to hell..."

"What do you think I am? You think I'm a fairy gone wrong?" Sam snarled. His black eyes glimmered in the flashing lightning and fire. "I'm evil. And you're just as bad as me. There's no point in _believing _anymore, and you know it."

Dean stared at him. The words rang a bell for him... reminded him of something...

_"I wanted to believe so badly... its so damn hard to do this... all alone... there's so much evil out in the world that I feel like I could drown in it... and when I think about my destiny, when I think about how I could end up... I just wanted to believe that maybe... maybe I could be saved..."_

Dean raised his eyes to Sam's, and swallowed hard. And, suddenly, he knew exactly what to do. He took Sam's shoulders again, holding him gently but firmly.

"It's okay, Sam."

Sam stared at him, his lips parted slightly. Dean squeezed his shoulder slightly.

"And you're right, there is evil out there. But you don't have a set destiny. You can change it. And you _can _be saved... 'cos I'm gonna save you."

Sam's grip on him loosened, and Dean's feet touched the ground again. And the storm's roar was dying a little... He could still hardly breathe, and he could feel his head beginning to spin, but he ignored it. He kept his eyes locked on Sam's, kept his grip on his brother strong.

"You're not alone, Sam," he told him firmly. "I'm right here with you all the way, and I always will be. You're my brother."

"Dean..."

It was the first time Sam had said his name. Dean felt a rush of hope. _Keep it coming, _he told himself firmly. _Just keep it coming, its working..._

"It's okay, Sammy. It's all gonna be okay. We're gonna work this out, you hear me? You're gonna be fine."

Sam's eyes flickered brown, black, and brown again, and Dean realized with a jerk that there were tears in his eyes. "I can't do this, Dean," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I just want it to stop. I want it all to just _stop."_

Around them the storm howled and grew again, and Dean pulled away a little in shock. He took a grip on himself and quickly moved back towards Sam, wetting his lips.

"Yes you can, Sam, yes you can! You can do this. I'm back now, its all okay."

Sam was breathing hard, his body trembling. Dean noticed for the first time just how pale he was, as if all his blood had vacated his body. Ruby's words rang in his ears: _He's using too much power, there's no way he can keep this up... _How much longer could Sam take the strain? Even as the thoughts were racing through his head, a glimmer of blood appeared on Sam's upper lip, trickling down from his nose. Dean's stomach jerked and he grabbed Sam's arm.

"Sam, stop it now. Just stop it. Come back with me and we'll fix everything."

Sam gazed at his brother, shaking. "Dean... I..."

"Sam, come on!"

Sam opened his mouth - and Ruby matirealized behind him. Dean felt relief flood through him and he relaxed. Ruby was going to help them, she would be able to reason with Sam too... and then he saw the knife. His eyes widened in shock and he reached out a hand, his mouth opening in a cry of warning.

Too late.

Ruby, her teeth bared in a snarl of determination, slammed her arm down and buried the knife in Sam's shoulder.

"NO!"

Dean's yell harmonized with Sam's scream of agony as his brother's body flashed and shuddered. Ruby twisted the knife and Sam screamed again. The storm screamed with him, and then whirled away, shrinking into nothing, leaving the sky a soft, dull blue-purple. The wind rushed over them and then softed to a natural sea breeze. The sea itself swelled one last time, and then died down, gently lapping the beach once more. Ruby pulled the knife free and Sam crumpled to the ground, his mouth open in a silent howl, his eyes glassy.

"Sammy!" Dean fell to his knees and pulled Sam into his arms, curling himself protectively around his brother. "Sam! Sammy, stay with me, I'm not letting you go now!"

Ruby wiped the bloodstained knife on her jeans, her face twisted with raw grief. "I'm sorry, Dean, I had no choice. He had to be stopped..."

"Get outta here!" Dean screamed, pulling Sam closely against him. "Now!"

"Dean-"

"FUCK OFF!"

Ruby flinched, and then vanished. Dean let his head drop to his chest, staring into Sam's pain-streaked face.

"Sammy? Sam, talk to me," he begged, his voice shaking.

Sam's glazed eyes blinked slowly, one hand fisting in Dean's shirt.

"D-Dean... y-you're ba-ack..."

"_I _wasn't the one who left," Dean replied, weak with relief that Sam was responding to him. "You okay, Sammy?"

"Dean..." Sam's voice trailed off and his eyes slid shut.

Panic launched through Dean and he shook Sam slightly. No, no, no, this wasn't happening, this wasn't _fair, _he had finally found his brother, he couldn't watch him die now...

"Sam? Sammy!"

Sam's body slowly relaxed and his head rolled to the side. Dean's stomach dropped away and he let out a wordless scream of horror and greif.

"SAMMY! SAMMY! NO!"

Dean heard the sound of running footsteps behind him and a few moments later...

**_Bobby's POV, mainly cos i felt like it!  
_**

... Bobby dropped to the ground before him, reaching for his arm.

"Hell, Dean, what happened?"

"He's dying, he's dying," Dean whispered. "She stabbed him and now he's dying... there's nothing I can do..."

Bobby's eyes widened as he realized that Dean was too greif-stricken to think straight. Hearing footsteps, Bobby looked up to see that Henrickson was sprinting towards them, a large bruise rising on his forehead. The officer skidded to a halt beside them, his eyes wide with shock.

"What the... what the..."

Bobby ignored them both and leant forwards to touch Sam's throat. He swore under his breath.

"Jesus, he's barely alive..."

"Ruby said he was using too much power, he must have exhausted himself," Henrickson put in.

He pulled off his over shirt and ripped it into peices, passing them to Bobby as he did so. Bobby took them and tried to take Sam to bandage his shoulder but Dean pulled backwards, encircling his arms around his brother.

"Dean, he's going to bleed out if you don't let me fix him up!" Bobby snapped. "Now let me see!"

Dean slowly released Sam a little, and Bobby pulled off the younger Winchester's jacket. He swore again: he could already see blood blossoming out over Sam's shirt. Desperate to just stem the bleeding for now, he rougly bandaged the shoulder without removing Sam's shirt. Sam didn't even wince. Bobby wrapped Sam's jacket around his shoulder again and Dean pulled him back into his arms. Bobby could see the older Winchester shaking and realized just how badly Dean had been affected by this. All the strain that had been building up over the last few days was finally coming out in floods.

Bobby rose to his feet, looking towards the car. Cathy was making her way towards them, her face lined with worry. Bobby looked down at Dean and reached over to shake his shoulder.

"Dean, we have to go. We have to take Sam back. Dean!"

Dean looked up dazedly. Henrickson reached out to take Sam but Dean pulled away, his eyes narrowing. He slipped one arm beneath Sam's knees and lifted him into his arms before rising to his feet. Bobby raised his eyebrows and Henrickson reached out to help but Dean shook his head.

"I've got him," Dean said. "He's... lighter."

Bobby's stomach jerked. If Sam was light enough for Dean to carry with hardly any trouble, then there was definatly something really wrong. Dean started towards the car and Henrickson ran past them so that he could bring the vechicle closer. Bobby remained beside Dean, just in case he needed help, but he seemed to be able to carry Sam easily on his own, so Bobby turned his gaze to Sam. His heart wrenched. Sam's skin was pale as snow, the blood distinctively red on his shoulder and top lip. The wound wasn't that bad, but with the blood loss combined with Sam's sudden weakness... it was gonna be bad.

_Why does it always have to happen to the Winchesters? They don't deserve it..._

Henrickson skidded to a halt beside them, and Cathy threw open the back door, reaching out to help Dean lift Sam into the back. Bobby got into the front and Henrickson tore away, sand spraying up from the tyres.

"Wait, what about Ruby?" Cathy asked.

Dean's face hardened. "She's not coming back," he snarled, pulling his brother's limp form against him.

Bobby glanced around at the boys. He didn't quite understand what had happened in the tornado - he hadn't been able to see - but Dean had said that 'she' had stabbed Sam. Did that mean that Ruby was responsible for the blood pumping from Sam's shoulder? Cathy was leaning over to look at Sam, her face paling.

"We have to go to a hospital, he's bleeding really badly!"

Bobby glanced at Dean, whose defenses were going up. "Dean, I think she's right. And a hospital might be the safest place for him right now. Dean..."

Dean hesitated, but clearly his common sense was returning. He nodded. "Okay."

Cathy shifted forwards to talk to Henrickson, pointing out of the windscreen. "Go left here. And hurry up!"

Henrickson's jaw clenched and he stamped on the accelerator. In the back seat Sam let out a small whimper as Dean braced them against the speed, and Dean curled his arm around him.

"It's okay, Sammy, you're gonna be okay."

Sam barely stirred. Bobby looked up as Henrickson tore around a corner and sped forwards, aiming for the hospital at the end of the road. He skidded into the hospital carpark and halted right outside the doors. Bobby scrambled out without waiting for the others and sprinted through the glass doors.

"We need some help over here right now!"

A nurse moved towards him, glancing around the waiting room which already had a few injured people inside.

"I'm sorry, Sir, if you could just take a seat..."

"The hell I will! This can't wait," Bobby snapped. "A friend of mine's been stabbed, he's bleeding to death. He's in a real bad way, he's unconscious and he needs help now."

The nurse's eyes had slowly been becoming more intense through his little speech, and by the end of it she was calling for a gurney. Two assistants ran forwards, pulling gurney between them as Dean stepped into the hospital, Henrickson and Cathy holding the doors for him, Sam hanging in his arms. The assistants ran the gurney over to them and Dean hesitated, glancing at Bobby. Bobby nodded. Reluctantly, Dean laid Sam down on the gurney but strode on beside it as the assistants wheeled it away down the corridor. One of the assistants pulled open Sam's eye and shone a small torch into it, rattling off medical giberish as he pushed the gurney along.

"We've got a stab wound to the left shoulder, patient is unconscious and unresponsive, we need an oxygen mask as soon as possible, BP is too high..."

They pushed through into the ER, and one of the nurses paused to stop Dean from following.

"You can't come in here, Sir, I'm sorry."

"No, you don't understand, I have to-"

"Just please wait out here, thank you."

She turned and vanished into the ER, leaving Dean to watch through the glass as the medical staff struggled to save his brother's life. Bobby approached him and touched his shoulder.

"C'mon, Dean, we'll get some coffee or something. C'mon."

Dean didn't even blink, his eyes fixed on the glass doors. "I'm not going anywhere."

Bobby hesitated. Then he nodded. "Okay. You know where to find me if you need me."

He took a step backwards, pausing in case Dean responded, but Dean ignored him. Bobby sighed and turned away, heading towards the coffee machine. The crap they sold here wouldn't change anything, but it would give him something to do with his hands so that maybe no one would see how badly they were shaking.

**And there goes another chapter! Leave a review if you liked it and I'll think about putting up the next chapter... hee hee... ;).**

**Thanks for all the reviews so far!**

**SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I only own this story, not Supernatural or Sam and Dean!**

**So, Sam's half an inch off dead, Dean's dying of angst for him, and Bobby's dying of angst for Dean. Henrickson and Cathy aren't in the picture so much at the moment, but will be coming in again soon, promise!**

Dean stood facing the wall with his elbows leant against the smooth blue paint and his hands pressed against his eyes. One leg tapped insistently, and he hear his heart thumping in his ears. He had been waiting by the coffee machines for two hours, and he still hadn't had any news on Sam. He knew that Bobby, Henrickson and Cathy were waiting loyally for him in the seating area, but he couldn't make himself go over to them. He didn't want to be around people right now. He just needed a little space... he looked at the reception desk as one of the nurses stood up, and his heart leapt. But, instead of coming towards him, she approached another man and began to speak quietly to him. Dean watched them, his heart sinking. Jesus, how much time did they need? Would it kill them to give him something, anything on his brother's condition?

His choice of words shut him up.

He looked up as someone walked over to the coffee machine beside him. Cathy. He hadn't even known her name until earlier that evening. She glanced at him, offering a small, awkward smile.

"How're you holding up?"

He just looked back at the wall. She sighed.

"That well, huh?"

"Was he this bad when he was with you?"

Cathy leant back against the wall next to him, taking a sip from her coffee. "Just headaches and nose bleeds. Nothing this bad."

Dean ran his hands up to grip his short hair, his shoulders heaving in a long sigh. "Thanks," he muttered.

"What for?"

"For picking him up. For not leaving him on the side of the road."

The corners of her mouth twitched upwards. "S'okay. I hope he comes through."

He nodded, a lump rising in his throat at the thought of what would happen if his brother didn't 'come through'. Cathy touched his arm and then moved away again. Dean looked back at the wall, trying his best to think of something other than the fact that his brother was dying in the ER, but somehow his memories of Busty Aisan couldn't hold his attention anymore.

"Mr. Kreeps?"

Dean jerked away from the wall so fast that his elbow clicked. The nurse standing beside the reception desk turned towards him, scrutinizing him carefully as if she suspected him of being a terrorist.

"Mr Kreeps?" she repeated.

He nodded, his mouth suddenly unbearably dry, and stepped towards her. She moved forwards to meet him.

"Would you mind coming into the office with me?"

_Oh god, that means its bad. _He nodded mutely, and the nurse looked past him to where Bobby had risen to his feet and Cathy and Henrickson were watching them hopefully.

"Family only right now," she said.

Dean nodded again, too terrified to argue. Behind him, Bobby nodded understandingly and sat down again, linking his hands together in his lap. He followed her away down a corridor to a smart, polished wooden door with a nameplate on it. _Dr. Barton. _The nurse pushed open the door and gestured for him to sit before the desk.

"The Dr. will be with you shortly," the nurse told him with a sympathetic smile before closing the door behind her.

Dean leant his elbows on his knees and bent his head to his clenched fists. _Okay, god, I've never believed in you or even prayed before in my life apart from that chick with the brain tumor. But I promise that whatever else happens to us you can do whatever you want to me and I won't give a shit about it if you get Sam through this. Just please let him be okay. I'll do anything. Just make him okay again. Please. Please, please, please-_

The door behind him opened and he lifted his head, his tongue leaden in his mouth. Dr. Barton pushed the door closed and moved around the desk to sit down, a file under his arm.

"Mr. Kreeps?"

Dean tried to speak, but his voice came out a croak. He swallowed hard, cleared his throat and tried again. "Yeah."

"I'm Dr. Barton, I'm going to be your brother's doctor. You _are_ his brother?"

Dean nodded. "M-my brother... how is he?"

Dr. Barton flipped open the file, leafing through it. He sighed one of those 'tsk tsk' sighs and sent Dean's stomach jerking upwards.

"Allow me to ask you a few questions before we talk about Sam... has he been suffering from any kind of symptoms over the last few days? Anything out of the ordinary for him?"

"He, uh, he's been getting nose bleeds a lot. Headaches."

"Yes, I thought so. He had a nose bleed when he came in too, right?"

Dean nodded.

"Well, we think that the frequent nose bleeds is because a lot of pressure was building up in his brain, too much for him to handle.It was a way for his brain to relieve some of that pressure. We're worried that there may be some permanent damage, but of course we won't know that for sure until he comes out of the coma..."

The words 'permanent damage' were chased out of Dean's head by that dominating horrifying word, 'coma'.

"Coma?" he repeated, his hands curling into fists. "H-he's in a coma?"

Dr. Barton nodded, clearly ready for his reaction. "Yes. His body looks like its been running on empty for a long time. He barely had enough nutrients in his blood stream to keep him alive. He's very weak and the stab wound to his shoulder has weakened him even more. He's lost a lot of blood. The coma is an automatic way for his body to recharge, to take some time out to recover. Its really the best thing for him right now."

_Shit, shit... _Dean put his head in his hands, squeezing his eyes shut. Dr. Barton paused, as if waiting to see if he would say anything, bt then continued.

"He's in the ICU right now. He'll need to be monitored carefully over the next few days, just to keep him from slipping back again."

Dean opened his eyes and raised his head, passing his hands over his face. "Okay. Okay..." he took a few deep breaths, struggling to calm himself and hold back the tears of fustration and greif that were threatening to form in his eyes. He focused on the doctor, who was waiting for him to respond.

"When... when can I see him?" Dean managed.

"Now, but just prepare yourself. He's wired up to a few machines to monitor him, so don't be alarmed."

"Okay, just let me see him," Dean replied shortly, standing up.

Dr. Barton rose to his feet and led the way out of the office. Dean followed him to the lifts and up to the third floor, and they came out onto a long wide corridor with rooms lined along the sides and a small desk against one wall. Dean's boots squeaked on the polished floor, turning the nurses heads as he followed the doctor. He couldn't help but wonder if this was as fast as the doctor could go. Couldn't the guy walk any faster, damn it? Dr. Barton stopped outside one of the rooms and gestured to the large window in the door.

"Okay, here's your brother's room. You're welcome to come up here whenever you feel you need to, but please remember that you need to look after yourself too. Its not against the law to take some time off and go home for a shower and a decent nights sleep."

Dean gritted his teeth, wishing the man would just hurry up and let him in, and Dr. Barton raised one eyebrow.

"Don't try that with me, I know your type. You don't think you can let your brother out of your sight even for a second, but there is honestly nothing more you will be able to do for him than we already have."

Dean glared at him. "You're wrong," he snarled. "He needs me here. He needs me with him. And I'm not going anywhere."

He pushed past the doctor and made his way into the room, shutting the door behind him to make his point clear. He turned and looked over at Sam, struck motionless for a few seconds. Then he slowly walked over to the bed and looked down at his brother, clenching his jaw to keep himself together.

"Hey Sammy," he murmured hoarsely.

God, Sam looked sick. Dark purple smudges hovered beneath his eyes, and he seemed to have become thinner in the few hours they had been apart for. His dark hair was still slightly damp from the rain earlier, and it was surprisingly dark against his pale skin. Wires and IV lines fed into both arms, which were folded over his stomach. He looked as if he were five years old again.

Dean ran his hands over his face, and then pulled a chair over to the bed and sat down. He took one of Sam's limp hands and squeezed it gently.

"I gotcha, Sammy," he murmured. "I'm here."

He remained motionless beside Sam, one hand firmly holding his brothers, the other shaking in his lap. He tried starting up a one-sided conversation, but his voice sounded small and empty in the silence and he quickly gave up. He could feel his eyes starting to droop and fought them open again.

He wasn't falling asleep. He was going to stay right here with Sam, until his brother woke up.

No matter how long it took.

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Bobby had managed to convince Cathy and Henrickson to wait downstairs while he talked to the doctors. They finally allowed him up to see the Winchesters. He couldn't get much out of them apart from the fact that Sam was still unconscious and that Dean was with him. They said that they couldn't tell him anything else until they got informed consent from Dean, and that Dean wasn't giving any clear indications as to what he wanted them to do right now.

Bobby didn't know who he was more scared for - Sam or Dean. Sam was dying. And Dean... Dean was going to lose it if they remained stuck in this mess for much longer.

He followed a nurse to the door but waited for her to leave before looking in through the window. He could see Sam connected up to some flickering, bleeping machines and Dean sitting beside him. Dean had both hands wrapped around one of Sam's, and his eyes gazed sightlessly ahead. His face was lined with fear and grief, as if Sam were already dead. Bobby swallowed hard, placing one hand on the door knob. He breifly considered leaving the boys together for a little longer, but quickly decided against it. Dean needed someone with him.

_Yeah, but he need John. And no matter how much you want to be, you aren't John. Are you?_

His own thoughts sent tremors of fear down his spine, and he shook them away. He knew that Dean relied on him, saw him as a father figure. But he was certain that Dean didn't know how much Bobby relied on him. The Winchesters were his second family. After the death of his wife, after his only chance for a family of his own slipped away from him, the Winchesters had risen from the ashes and moved into his life. John had been so naieve, trying to become a hunter with two kids to care for... and over the years, Sam and Dean had slowly become Bobby's new family. His second chance.

He couldn't lose them.

He took a few deep breaths to steady himself, and then pushed open the door and closed it softly behind him. "Hey, boy," he offered softly.

Dean didn't move. Bobby sighed and walked quietly over to the bed, standing on the opposite side to Dean. He looked down at Sam, running his eyes over the younger Winchester's fragile, motionless form.

"Hey, Sam," he murmured. "You gonna wake up for your brother soon, 'kay? He's worried sick here, not to mention me too."

On the other side of the bed, Dean's face twitched slightly and he lifted his head to focus on Bobby. He looked lost and alone, as if he were a little boy again asking why his Daddy was bleeding so bad.

"Coma," he said quietly. "Doctor said he's weak from blood loss, other stuff. Dunno if he'll pull through."

Bobby reached over the bed to grip Dean's shoulder, shaking him slightly. "He'll be okay, Dean, you hear me? You both will. And you'll look back on this and joke about it. Somehow."

Dean's eyes looked wet and raw, as if his whole soul was pouring out of him instead of a few salty tears. Bobby squeezed his shoulder again and then turned and headed for the door.

"I'm gonna get you something to eat. And don't you dare say no or I'll have to force feed you."

Dean's mouth twitched in a small smile and he turned his eyes back to Sam. The very fact that he wasn't arguing sent worry through Bobby's chest, but he forced himself to continue out of the room. He would get Dean some food and something to drink and then maybe he would come round a bit. He wouldn't feel as tired at least...

_Stop thinking and just GO, damn it!_

He lengthened his stride. He didn't want to leave Dean alone for too long.

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Henrickson kneaded his forehead with his knuckles, his shoulders heaving in a small sigh. He had been waiting on these uncomfortable plastic chairs for hours now. Dean and Bobby were nowhere to be seen, and Cathy - who he barely even knew - had fallen asleep in the chair next to him, her head resting on his shoulder, meaning that he couldn't move away to find them. He had decided to just stay where he was, wait for someone to come and collect him.

Beside him, Cathy stirred and lifted her head, rubbing at her face. She turned her head to look at him.

"They're not back yet?"

He shook his head.

"Any news on Sam?"

"Someone came down but Bobby went to talk to them alone."

Her face fell and she rubbed her hands slowly over her eyes. "Wish they would just give us _something,_" she mumbled.

"Yeah, you and me both," he replied, grinning.

She glanced at him again. "You gonna have that looked at?"

He frowned, and then realized that she was talking about the bruise he had taken when Sam had thrown him back into the car. He didn't really care. He had taken worse before.

"I'm fine. Doesn't even hurt."

She snorted. "You're just as macho as the others. Are you like them? A..." she searched for the word, trying to remeber the little they had told her. "A hunter?"

He stared at her for a moment, unsure of how he should reply. Then he nodded. "Yeah. I'm a hunter."

He rose to his feet and went to the reception desk, muttering to the nurse to tell Bobby that he and Cathy had gone back to the motel if he asked. Then he returned to Cathy and pulled her up to her feet.

"C'mon. Lets go."

"Where? What about-"

"The others?" He shook his head. "We're not part of them. And right now, I think they need some space."

She hesitated, but then nodded. "We'll call in the morning? To find out how Sam is?"

"Of course."

"Okay, then. Lets go."

**So this chapter was a little less eventfull than the others, but I though it was time for some brotherly stuff. I'm hoping to draw it out just a little bit longer, so drop me a review and tell me if you love it or hate it. Thanks to everyone who has stuck with me so far!**

**SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I only own this story, not Supernatural or Sam and Dean!**

Dean only realized that he had been asleep when he felt the rough, dry hospital sheet against his cheek. He lifted his head, wincing as his neck ached, and his eyes glided instantly to Sam. Sam hadn't moved since last night... or that morning... or maybe a bit of both. Dean watched him for a few moments until Bobby cleared his throat on the other side of the bed. Dean looked up.

"You probably didn't sleep well, huh?"

Dean raised and lowered one shoulder, looking back at Sam. "Any news?"

"Someone came in to refresh his IV."

Dean knew that he was only offering this meaningless piece of information because if he didn't Dean wouldn't have anything to go on at all. He looked at the IV, and then over at the door. "You think the doctor's around somewhere? I wanna talk to him."

Bobby got up. "I'll go find him. Henrickson and Cathy went back to the motel."

Dean shrugged. Right now he couldn't care less what Henrickson and Cathy did. He just wanted Sam to be okay. Bobby sighed and moved out of the room, pulling the door shut behind him. Dean reached out to take Sam's hand, studying his face carefully. He had a little more colour in his face, though he was still pale.

"Sammy?" he asked softly. "Sam? C'mon, bro, wake up for me."

Sam's eyes flickered beneath his lids, but he didn't respond. Dean rubbed one hand over his face.

"Please, Sam," he murmured, his voice breaking slightly. "Sammy... please, Sammy..."

He broke off as the door opened and Dr. Barton stepped inside, Bobby and a nurse following. "Mr. Kreeps," Dr. Barton said, smiling. "I'm afraid there's been no indication that you're brother's going to wake up any time soon, although he's much healthier than he was when he first got here."

"Isn't there anything you can do?" Dean demanded, his eyes narrowing. "You must be able to wake him up somehow."

"Even if we could it would disrupt his body when he's trying to heal."

"Well, how long is he going to be like this?"

"We really don't know," Dr. Barton replied. "I'm sorry, Mr. Kreeps, I know you're very upset right now-"

"_Very upset _doesn't even cover it, pal!" Dean snapped, but Bobby stepped between them.

"Thank you, doctor, that's all we wanted to know," he said.

Dr. Barton shook his head and walked over to one of the machines beside Sam's bed, pressing some of the buttons. The nurse followed him, collecting Sam's charts from the end of his bed and pulling out a pen. The machine bleeped loudly, and Dean jerked halfway out of his chair.

"What're you doing? What's that?"

"I'm just checking his blood pressure and heart rate," Dr. Barton said soothingly, not moving his eyes from the machine. "Calm down, Mr. Kreeps."

Dean snorted coldly and sat down again, reaching for Sam's hand. He watched as Dr. Barton's fingers flickered over the machine and he muttered to the nurse. Then he turned to Sam, pulling out a small torch from his pocket. He leant over and stretched open Sam's eyelid, shining the light into his pupil.

"Still not responding to light," he muttered, mostly to himself. "Mr. Kreeps? Sam? Can you hear me?"

He paused, flashing the light around before straightening up and tucking the torch back into his pocket. "Not responding to light or sound," he muttered to the nurse beside him.

_We already knew that, tell me something that matters! _Dean screamed in his head. He clenched his jaw and looked down at Sam's lax face, rubbing his thumb over his little brother's hand.

_C'mon, Sam. Wake up. Please._

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Ruby sat back on the sand, looking out on the glittering waves around her. She hadn't left the beach since the night before, since she didn't have anywhere else to go and Dean would probably kill her if she went anywhere near him or Sam any time soon. She would have to wait it out for a while.

She couldn't deny that what she had done was terrible. Stabbing Sam... she had really crossed the line there. Even if it had been to save the world. She pulled the knife out of her pocket and rubbed at the blade, wetting her dry lips. She could almost still see the blood on it... the scream Sam had let out had really shaken her. She wasn't sure if, if Dean ever _did _forgive her, that she would be able to face going back again. But she had to go back at some point. They would need her help.

She was pretty sure that Sam was in a coma because of her. After using so much power, to have it cut off so suddenly like that could have killed him, even if the stab wound didn't. Knowing that, she should never have gone ahead and attacked like that when he was so unstable. But she hadn't been thinking straight, her only thought had been the fact that the world was about to be sucked into Sam's void of darkness and that she had to stop it.

Ruby sighed and leant her folded arms on her knees, fixing her eyes on the shimmering ocean. She would wait. Wait for them to call her... or wait until she was sure they had realized that they had no other choice.

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Henrickson took the lift up to the third floor and walked down the corridor, switching the brown paper bag from his right hand to his left. It had been three days since the world almost ended, and Sam's condition hadn't changed at all. Dean hadn't left the hospital, and Bobby had only been back to the motel a few times to shower or pick up some book for research on what they could do to help Sam. Neither was looking great. Henrickson had managed to convince Cathy to go home the day before, promising to call her if anything happened, although he doubted he would.

Henrickson slowed as Bobby emerged from Sam's room and noticed him coming, pausing to greet him.

"Hey, Henrickson," he muttered, rubbing at his bloodshot eyes.

"Hey. I brought backup," Henrickson replied, holding up the bag.

Bobby took it, rooting through it for some coffee. He pulled out one of the two cups in it and took a sip, letting out a low groan of relief. "Jeez, coffee never tasted so good..."

"Things ain't changed much, then?" Henrickson said, smiling ruefully. "How's Dean dealing with things?"

Bobby shook his head, taking another gulp of coffee. "He's just real quiet. I just know he's beating himself up about this, like he could have done something to change it. Idjit."

"Anything we can do?"

"Doubt it. He won't be himself until Sam wakes up."

"And I'm guessing you haven't had much success with that."

Bobby leant back against the wall, rolling his eyes. "Tell me about it. Its not like I've ever dealt with anything like this before. There's nothing about anything in any of the books I've got left over since Sam blew up my library."

Henrickson waited, but Bobby didn't continue. He glanced at Sam's room, wetting his lips. "And... what about Ruby?"

He knew he was pushing it now. Bobby had vaugley told him that Ruby was partly to blame for what had happened to Sam, and that Dean was beyond furious with her. There was no way Dean would let them sumon her. Bobby's eyes narrowed, and he lowered the cup of coffee from his lips.

"Ruby? Henrickson, you know we're not having anything to do with Ruby anymore. Dean hates her."

"Well, correct me if I'm wrong, but it looks like she's the only one who might know what the hell is going on here and how to help Sam," Henrickson replied, frowning. "Don't tell me Dean's so proud that he would put Sam's life at risk instead of considering trusting her?"

"Dean _did _trust her. He trusted her at the very beginning when this all started and look where that got us!"

"You're not actually telling me that that was Ruby's fault? You were the one defending her back then."

"I know, I know, its just..." Bobby passed a hand over his eyes, shaking his head. "Its been a long few days, Henrickson. Dean just won't accept Ruby right now."

"Well when he finally does is it gonna be too late?"

Bobby stared at him, his eyes narrowing. "I'm not gonna let anything happen to those boys, Henrickson."

"Yeah, that's what you keep saying. I just thought it was about time you did something about it," Henrickson replied.

He moved past Bobby before the other man could reply, pushing the food he had got for him into his chest. He reached Sam's room and stepped inside. Dean looked up at him.

Dean's eyes had dark bags beneath them, and they bore into Henrickson like drills. His mouth was stiff in a firm, hard line and his whole stance screamed protectiveness, one hand curled over Sam's. By now, he looked worse than Sam did. Henrickson moved over to him, keeping a respectable distance from Sam because he didn't want his head bitten off just yet, and held out the bag.

"Got you some food. Coffee."

Dean took the bag but merely placed it on the small bedside table, barely glancing at it. Henrickson sighed and folded his arms, looking down at Sam. If you didn't take in the pasty skin and the sharp, halting, shallow breaths, you could almost convince yourself that he was just sleeping. If only.

"How's he doing?" Henrickson asked, already knowing the answer but needing something to break the awkward silence with.

Dean shook his head in answer.

"The doctor said anything?"

Dean shook his head again.

Henrickson hesitated, and then steeled himself. "You know, we could always-"

"What?" Dean snapped, looking up sharply. "What, Henrickson?"

The words, '_summon Ruby_' died on Henrickson's lips and he swallowed hard. Then he looked away, dropping Dean's gaze. "Nothing," he muttered.

Dean looked back down at Sam, unsmiling and cold. Henrickson turned and headed for the door.

"I'll see you later, I'm going to find Bobby."

Dean didn't reply.

Henrickson got out of the room and leant against the wall outside, waiting for Bobby to return. He didn't have to wait long: he soon saw Bobby returning from wherever he had gone, chewing on one of the sandwiches Henrickon had brought him. He slowed and stopped outside the door.

"Henrickson, there's nothing we can do to convince him-"

"I know," Henrickson cut across him. "So I was thinking... maybe we should sumon her ourselves. It worked before, didn't it?"

"No," Bobby said sharply. "I'm not summoning that bitch, not now."

Henrickson raised his eyebrows. "Bobby, don't tell me you actually agree with him?"

"Henrickson, no. After what she did... I mean, I wanna help Sam, but in our way. Dean's right. We can't trust demons."

And with that he moved past Henrickson and into Sam's room. Henrickson thought for a few moments and then headed for the lift. He thought that Bobby had left some of his books at the motel. Maybe they would be able to tell him everything he needed...

...everything he needed to sumon a demon.

**Okay, there goes another chapter. Please, please review and maybe I'll stick on the next chapter. Thank you sooooo much for all the reviews so far!**

**SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: I only own this story, not Supernatural or Sam and Dean!**

Sam was floating. Darkness pressed in on him on all sides, cold and hard, stopping him from moving. All he could do was blink slowly as he tumbled backwards through the blackness. He couldn't remember where he was going, or where he had come from, or what he was supposed to be doing, but there was a stabbing pain in his shoulder which refused to go away. And his head was throbbing, for that matter. He tried to ignore the pain and think about something else, but his mind was completely empty. Where was he, anyway?

_Sam... Sam..._

He would have frowned, but his face wouldn't move. Instead, he focused on the sound. The voice was somewhat familiar, but he couldn't quite put his finger on where he had heard it before.

_Sam... c'mon, Sam, I need you to wake up for me..._

But he wasn't asleep... was he? He couldn't remember. If he was asleep, surely he wouldn't be thinking like this, right? Unless this was all a dream.

_Sam, wake up..._

So he had to wake up. He tried to pinch himself, and then remembered that he couldn't move. He tried to push away from the darkness, but it held fast against him. He tried to see some sort of light around him that would signify a way out of this world of nothingness, but there was none. He didn't know what to do.

_Sam... Sammy..._

_Who are you? _Sam whispered. His mouth didn't move, and yet he heard the voice as clearly as if he had spoken aloud.

_Wake up, Sammy..._

_But I don't know how! _he screamed in fustration, already knowing that whoever it was that was asking him to wake up couldn't hear him.

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Henrickson knelt down opposite the candle he had stuck in its own wax on the floor of the hospital basement. He flipped through the book he had found in Bobby's small collection until he reached the page he had chosen and wet his lips hesitantly, suddenly unsure of what to do. He knew that he had to light the candle, recite the ritual and then cut his palm and drip some blood down onto the candle to extinguish the flame. But he had never spoken latin before, and he wasn't sure how to pronounce the words.

But he had to try. If Dean and Bobby weren't going to see past their fury enough to help Sam, he would have to do it himself.

He sighed quietly, and then laid the book on the floor where he could see it and pulled out his knife. He put the point of the knife to the skin of his palm and looked down at the book, taking a deep breath to prepare himself. Then he began.

"Christo nos ominos estra lin... ego voco cos ex abyssus nomen nostri senior quod..."

His voice sounded strangely small in the silence, and he swore in his head. Why didn't he just try to convince Bobby to help him instead of trying to say these weird, old-time words... _because Bobby won't do it and will probably take the book away too. So carry on!_

"Vos venire contra mihi iam ut nos may sermo quod defero una nomen of Sar... Sar... Sarcalogos... uh, okay... vos ominous dracos..."

He struggled on, stumbling over most of the words, making complete messes out of others. By the time he pressed the knife into his palm, he was certain that he had just wasted ten minutes of his life speaking gobbledegook. He had never self-harmed before, although this wasn't really the same as slitting your wrists. He allowed the blood to drip down towards the candle, extinguishing it on the fourth try.

Henrickson rose to his feet slowly, wiping the blood on a small handkerchief he had brought and tying the matireal tightly around the wound. He looked around slowly, scanning the dark basement for any signs of life. Nothing. He'd done it wrong and wasted his time.

_Jeez, I'm never going to be able to do this..._

"Idiot," he muttered. "Very clever... okay, time to ask Bobby for help."

"Do you have to?" a soft voice asked from the shadows on the other side of the basement. "I was hoping that maybe we could have some time alone."

He turned slowly, the hairs on the back of his neck rising. His hand automatically went to the gun in the waistband of his trousers.

Because his ritual had worked.

But that wasn't Ruby.

He watched as a slim, beautiful young woman emerged from the shadows and walked towards him, her black curly hair cascading in a soft waterfall over her shoulders, a smile that was almost a smirk tweaking at the corners of her mouth.

"Hey, handsome," she said. "You called?"

Henrickson steeled himself to remain still, watching as she stopped a few paces away. "Uh, no, sorry. I was actually looking for someone else."

"Well, you got me. A better deal, huh?"

She moved closer, and his heart sped up but not with attraction, with fear. He could sense that she was dangerous, and that she could kill him in moments. As if she could tell what he was thinking, her eyes flodded with darkness and she smiled sweetly.

"You okay, honey? You seem a little tense. Want me to, ah, loosen you up a little?"

"No," Henrickson muttered, taking a step backwards. He pulled out his gun and lifted it, his finger tightening on the trigger. "I would be grateful if you left now, please."

She grinned and stepped closer. Henrickson fired.

The gunshot screamed through the room, and Henrickson flinched. The woman looked down at the bullet wound in her chest and arched one eyebrow slowly.

"You," she said, her voice suddenly dripping with ice, "Should not have done that."

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"Sam? C'mon, Sam, quit doing this to me." Dean buried his face in his hands, only just holding back tears of fustration and greif. He was beginning to think that Sam wasn't going to wake up, no matter what he did. He lifted his head slowly and looked at his brother, who hadn't moved for hours. And that was only because a nurse had been in to change his IV and had moved his arm slightly and that Dean had brushed his hair out of his eyes a few minutes after that.

"Sammy?" he whispered, barely even daring to hope that he would get an answer.

The door opened and Bobby appeared, carrying a coffee. Dean had lost count of how many coffees he had drunk over the last few hours, but he was pretty sure that it wasn't healthy. But he couldn't find the effort to care. Bobby passed him the coffee and he automatically took it and had a sip.

"How's he doing?" Bobby asked, a pointless ritual.

Dean shrugged, keeping up his side of the ritual. Bobby sat down in the empty chair opposite him and looked at Sam for a few moments.

"You know," he said after a moment, "Henrickson thinks we should summon Ru..."

Dean looked up, his furious eyes daring Bobby to even finish saying her name, and Bobby's voice trailed off. The older man shook his head and looked back at Sam.

"Just think about it, Dean. I don't think there's anything we're going to be able to do for him."

"Don't say that."

"Dean, just look at-"

"_Don't say it!!" _Dean screamed, jerking forwards in the seat.

For a few moments, they just stared at each other. Then, slowly, Bobby nodded and turned his face away. Dean sank slowly back onto the chair, his whole body still tensed. A small voice in the back of his head told him that he was being unreasonable, but he pushed it away.

At that moment, the lights above them flickered and then abruptly went out, plunging them into darkness. Both Bobby and Dean rose to their feet, Dean automatically pulling his gun from his jeans. Bobby glanced at him, and then at the corridor where the nurses were turning to look at each other in confusion.

"Coinsidence?" Bobby muttered.

"Yeah right," Dean replied softly.

Bobby nodded and moved to the door. "I'll check," he said, and then moved out of the room.

Dean moved over to it and pushed a chair against the handle, jamming the door, and then moved back to Sam. He positioned himself between the bed and the door, keeping his gun ready, and put his hand on Sam's.

"S'okay, Sam," he told his brother quietly. "I'm right here. I'm not gonna let anything get at you, 'kay?"

And, just like before, Sam was silent and motionless beside him.

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The whole hospital was in darkness, all of the emergency power being used on life support machines. Bobby moved silently through the corridors, one hand on the gun concealed beneath his jacket. He couldn't sense anything supernatural on Sam's floor, and something made him keep going until he reached the ground floor and the reception. He looked around, frowning, wondering if maybe his instincts were off course for once. He walked across the reception, holding the gun rightly, and glanced around. Nothing.

"... kids or something," one of the nurses was muttered to another. "You know, Jane said that she saw some guy go down into the basement not long ago maybe it was him. You think we should call security?"

"He was probably with the caretaker or something. Its just a power cut."

Bobby listened a moment longer, and then strode to the basement door. Worth a try, right? He pushed open the door and moved onto the steps, heading down into the darkness.

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Henrickson took a small step backwards as the demon moved towards him, her lip curling.

"You think that was funny or something? You gonna run away?"

"Look, I don't want trouble, can't we just-"

"No, no, no, you threw yourself in at the deep end, honey. This is your fault. If you can't handle the heat, don't wake the fire."

He opened his mouth - maybe to beg for his life - and then flew backwards and into the wall. Some shelves behind him broke apart, raining cleaning bottles down on him as he tumbled to the floor, gasping as stars danced before his eyes. Before he could fight his way back up to his feet, an invisible force grabbed him and lifted him into the air, slamming him back against the wall. His chest tightened and he struggled to breathe, his eyes widening as the demon moved towards him, one hand outstretched.

_Shit, shit, shit..._

"You have no idea what you're doing, do you?" she asked, grinning. "You're an amature."

"I was just trying to-"

"Help your friends?" she interrupted. "Please. Don't be so pathetic."

Her face hardened, and her eyes flooded with darkness. Henrickson closed his eyes and waited for the end...

And Bobby appeared on the steps.

"Henrickson, what..." his voice trailed off as he caught sight of the demon and her dark eyes.

Then his eyes narrowed and latin began to spill from his lips. The demon snarled and jerked backwards, clapping her hands over her ears. Bobby reached the bottom of the steps, still reciting the ritual, and she let out a short scream. Then she shuddered and vanished from sight. Henrickson slipped down the wall, released from the demon's hold and drew in a gasping breath.

Bobby waited for a few moments, his eyes flickering around the room. Then he turned to Henrickson, his eyes blazing with fire.

"What - did - you - do?" he ground out quietly.

Henrickson swallowed hard, suddenly wishing that he was still at the demons mercy instead of Bobby's. "I'm sorry," he managed after a few moments. "I... I was just trying to... if Ruby were here..."

"Do you realize what you've done?" Bobby snarled, shaking the gun at him. "These demons can sense a power like Sam's! They'll go straight for him! What were you _thinking?_"

"Ruby would be able to help and-"

"No, Henrickson, no!" Bobby whirled around, scanning the room. "How many are there? How many did you see?"

"Just the one, I thought..."

A huge wind suddenly swept through the room, even though the basement had no windows. Bobby and Henrickson glanced at each other, and then at the stairs.

There were more. And they were heading straight for the Winchesters.

**Sorry its taken me so long to update these last few chapters but I've been busy with coursework. Please review!**

**SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: I only own this story, not Supernatural or Sam and Dean!**

**Thanks so much for all the reviews so far, they keep me writing!**

_In the last chapter..._

_"What - did - you - do?" Bobby ground out quietly._

_"I... I was just trying to... if Ruby were here..."_

_"Do you realize what you've done? These demons can sense a power like Sam's! They'll go straight for him! What were you _thinking? _How many are there? How many did you see?"_

_"Just the one, I thought..."_

_A huge wind suddenly swept through the room, even though the basement had no windows. Bobby and Henrickson glaned at each other, and then at the stairs._

_There were more. And they were heading straight for the Winchesters._

_Now..._

Dean watched through the small window in the door as the nurses milled about in the corridor outside, confused by the sudden loss of power, calling out to each other in the darkness. Patients and visitors clumped together in tight groups, as if they were standing in the arctic.

Any one of them could be a demon.

Dean turned to look at Sam, wetting his lips nervously. If any demons did come, he wasn't going to be able to hold them off for long without any help. But he couldn't let them take his baby brother, he _couldn't... _he moved over to Sam and put one hand on his brother's.

"Sam? Listen, if you can hear me, I need your help. We think that there could be demons around here, and I'm the only one here to protect you. You hear me, Sam? I need you to wake up. Right now."

He waited, but again got no response. Sighing in despair, he turned back towards the door...

_Clack._

The hairs on the back of Dean's neck stood upright, and he swung the gun up at once. It could have been a tree branch knocking against the window. It could have been someone tapping their foot outside.

Or it could have been a demon.

Dean stepped towards the door, his chest tight with anticipation. He wanted to call for Bobby, but he was certain that Bobby wouldn't hear him from here and if it was nothing he might disturb the other hunter when he was about to discover something important. But it wasn't nothing. He could feel it, feel something... he took another step towards the door.

With an earsplitting shriek of shattering glass, the window opposite the door exploded inwards raining tiny glittering grains over everything. Catlike, a woman leapt onto the windowsill and crouched there, her eyes glinting in the light of the machines, her teeth bared in a savage grin.

"Hey, Winchester," she said silkily, and her eyes flooded black.

Dean fired at her, throwing himself forwards to stand between her and his brother, but she slipped away from his bullets and leapt down to the floor. A man appeared behind her, his hands already stained with blood, a striking contrast to his white-blond hair. Maybe he had been in the middle of something when he had come. And another man behind him, a red-headed muscular figure, hissing like a snake... _oh, shit._

Dean jerked forwards, landing a sharp kick in the woman's abdomen, and she staggered backwards. At once, one of the men - the red-headed one - shifted forwards, grabbed him by the throat, and swung him backwards into the wall. Dean's head snapped back on his neck and stars danced before his eyes. Before he even had a chance to figure out whether he was on the floor or in the air, the beefy hands grabbed him again and lifted him up to eye-level.

"Dean Winchester," the demon growled. "I've never had the pleasure. Strange, I expected someone... taller."

"Then this is the guy you want," the woman called.

Dean jerked his head over to her, clenching both fists. It was only then that he realized his gun was gone. He must have dropped it... damn it. The woman had crossed to Sam's bedside and was leaning over him, caressing his forehead in a sickeningly loving way. Her lips curved into a cruel smile, like a lioness bending over her prey.

"Our famous celebrity Samuel Winchester. Tall _and _handsome, what a catch. I wouldn't mind having a little fun myself before we do the honours."

"Aw, I wan'ed to play too!" the blond man whined, sidling closer. He had a texas accent. The woman pushed him away.

"He's _mine, _I got here first."

"Get your filthy hands off my brother!" Dean yelled, his voice shaking with fury and disgust. "I swear to god, I'm gonna kill all of you stinking-"

He broke off as the demon's hand tightened around his throat and choked, clawing at the massive fingers.

"You watch what you say about us, we callin' the shots righ' now," the blond demon growled, stepping closer. He looked around suddenly, his eyes flashing. "Oooh, don't look now, but we got company."

_Bobby. _A wave of relief rolled over Dean as the demons hold slackened, but it quickly dissapated as the woman smiled coolly.

"You want them, then?"

The red-headed demon holding Dean grinned, and then vanished. Dean dropped to the floor but pushed himself up to his feet and made a grab for the woman. Before he could get there, the blond demon snatched him back and flung him into the wall with one flick of its head.

"Now, now, you'll get yours after."

The woman had pulled herself up onto the bed and stradlled Sam, moving her hands over his chest. "Well, he's just muscles all over, isn't he! You guys work out?"

"GET OFF HIM!" Dean screamed, launching himself forwards.

Again the blond demon moved into his path and knocked him to the ground with a fist to the jaw. Dean blacked out for a second, and blinked to find himself lying on the floor staring up at the ceiling. He scrambled up to his feet, swayed, and fell back against the wall. The blond demon burst out laughing.

"Gee, look at 'im, he's all shook up like a drunken donkey!"

Dean's startled mind took a moment to wonder where the hell that statement had come from - _drunken donkey? - _before he snapped back into fight mode and launched himself forwards once more. The demon raised a hand and flicked his wrist lazily, and Dean slammed backwards into the wall, pinned. He glared at the demon, and then turned his eyes to Sam. The woman was running her hands through his hair, smirking.

"I find it quite rude that he's completely ignoring me. Shall we wake him up, honey?"

"Leave him alone," Dean snarled. "Don't do anything, don't go messing his head up again."

As if this had sealed the idea, the woman placed both hands on either side of Sam's head and closed her eyes. "C'mon, sweetie," she murmured. "Come towards the light."

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Sam felt it at once; a cold, terrifying presense which appeared in the darkness he was floating in and swirled towards him at breakneck speed. It wrapped itself around his body, sending freezing shudders through him, and he let out a harsh scream. It tightened its hold, constricting his breathing, and he struggled to free himself. He heard cold, merciless laughter coming from somewhere nearby and flinched.

_Evil. Get away. Evil._

All at once a bright white light appeared, a tiny pinprick of silver far far away. Sam tried to pull away from it but it swept towards him, growing bigger and bigger. As it grew bigger he began to feel a sharp, stabbing pain in his head as if someone was driving a knife into his skull. He cringed, trying to pull away from it, but it held him in a vice grip. As the pain grew as white hot as the light rushing towards him, a single name swung into his head

_"DEAN!"_

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Dean watched as Sam's back arched and his mouth opened in a silent scream of agony. His heart wrenched and he struggled against the demon's hold, his eyes fixed on his brother.

"Sam! _Sam!_"

As if answering his call, Sam's eyes flew open and focused on the woman bending over him. Dean saw his pupils shrink with sudden fear and struggled violently, shouting his brother's name. Sam didn't even look at him, his eyes on the demon.

"Hey, precious," the demon said, smiling sweetly at him. "You're even prettier awake. What hair conditioner do you use?"

Sam blinked slowly, something changing in his expression. "Dean," he breathed, his voice rasping and weak.

"Sammy! I'm right here, Sammy, I'm gonna get you out of this!" Dean yelled, the relief that his brother was okay mixing with the dismay that he was too weak to fight.

Sam's eyes slid over to his, and Dean felt a second rush of relief at seeing his brother's eyes on his again. "Sammy," he whispered.

"Dean?" Sam asked again, his voice just as weak as before.

"Hate to break up the little family reunion," the woman broke in, "But I came here to have fun."

At that moment, the door burst open. Dean didn't have time to look around, all he knew that one moment he was stuck against a wall, the next he had been thrown roughly to the floor and was looking up at his brother. The demon crouching over him snarled like a wolf, and then snaked both arms firmly around Sam's body.

"Sam!" Dean yelled, suddenly realizing what was about to happen. "No, Sam!"

He scrambled up to his feet, but he was too late. Before he could stop her, the demon had vanished. Dean caught one glimpse of Sam's shocked, agonized eyes before he, too, dissappeared.

"SAMMY!"

Dean scrambled up to his feet as the blond haired demon screamed, black smoke errupting from his mouth, and Bobby ran forwards into the room, lowering his gun. Dean ran to the bed, the room spinning around him, and felt with both hands over the place where Sam had been as if expecting to feel his brother.

"Sam, shit, no, this isn't happening..."

"Dean, what happened?" Bobby asked, looking around huntedly.

"She took him, damn it, she took him!" Dean swung around to face them as Henrickson moved into the room behind Bobby. "How did she know, how did they get here?"

Bobby looked wordlessly at Henrickson. Dean followed his gaze. Bobby opened his mouth, but Dean was already moving. He shot forwards, grabbed Henrickson by the collar and slammed him back against the wall, his face contorted with fury.

"What the hell did you do? Henrickson, I'll kill you myself! You led them here! You did it!"

Henrickson tried to draw a breath, as if trying to speak, but Dean shook him and landed a punch on his jaw. Bobby moved quickly over to them, restraining Dean as he tried to attack again.

"Dean, stop. We don't kill _people, _Dean. Dean!"

Slowly, Dean's struggles ceased. Then he tore himself free and moved away, pressing a hand to his forehead. "He doesn't qualify as a person anymore," he snarled.

Bobby looked torn between following him and giving him space. He hovered uncertainly, biting his lip.

"Dean, what happened? Where did she take him?"

Dean sank down on the side of Sam's bed, putting his head in his hands. "I've lost him, Bobby. I've lost him now."

**Okay, end of chapter thirteen! Hope you guys enjoyed it, hopefully not too repetitive. Please, please, please review!**

**SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: I only own this story, not Supernatural or Sam and Dean!**

**Thanks so much for all the reviews so far, they keep me writing!**

_In the last chapter..._

_The demon crouching over Sam snarled like a wolf, and then snaked both arms firmly around his body._

_"Sam!" Dean yelled, suddenly realiing what was about to happen. "No, Sam!"_

_He scraambled up to his feet but he was too late. Dean caught one glimpse of Sam's shocked, agonized eyes before he dissappeared._

_"SAMMY!"_

_"Dean, what happened? Where did she take him?"_

_Dean sank down on the side of Sam's bed, putting his head in his hands. "I've lost him, Bobby. I've lost him now."  
_

_Now, a few hours later..._

Sam jerked into awareness in complete darkness at the sound of his own rapidly beating heart.

He could feel pinpricks of sweat standing out on his forehead and the back of his neck, and his breathing was coming fast and hard. A dull headache hovered over him, niggling furiously at the back of his mind. His shoulder stung sharply whenever he moved it, and his mouth and throat felt dry as sandpaper.

But that wasn't what scared him.

He could feel... something. Something coursing through his bloodstream like rivlets of silver. Something that was out of place and yet also... him. He frowned, trying to work out exactly what it was that had joined his body, but before he could get a clear view of what it was the feeling vanished.

Sam rose slowly to his knees, still breathing shallow and hard, now noticing that his whole body trembled every few seconds. He did his best to calm himself, to relax, but something wouldn't let him. Electricity crackled through his body like lightning, keeping his heart juddering in his chest. Sam shut his eyes tightly, beginning to hyperventilate from fear and confusion.

_Calm down... just calm down, stop freaking out..._

_"I gotcha, Sammy..."_

The words slithered into his mind as if they had been spoken out loud, and instantly he stilled. That's what Dean would say. Dean would want him to calm down... Sam took as deep a breath as he could and then rose to his feet. His body shuddered slightly, but he didn't have a problem supporting himself. He squinted around, trying his best to see through the blackness around him.

"Dean?" he called softly.

No answer.

He took a slow, cautious step forwards, suddenly aware of how loud his rushed breathing actually was. If there was an enemy somewhere nearby, they already knew he was there. He moved forwards a little further, and his foot knocked against something which lolled stiffly to one side. He froze at once, alarms going off in his head.

_That's not what I think it is..._

He turned his head, and then caught sight of a faint blueish light not too far away. He could see curtains fluttering before it, and his brain slowly put together that it was a window as he moved forwards. He caught at the curtains and pushed them aside, and silvery moonlight flooded into the room. For a moment, Sam stood stunned at the brightness. Then he turned and looked down, his heart sinking.

_Oh god..._

There was a corpse on the floor a few steps away from him. The man's skin was greyish white and his eyes stared sightlessly up towards the ceiling, his lifes blood pooled around him and staining the floor boards from a huge gash in his chest. The room he was standing in was large and square, the walls made of wood, the furniture ripped and stained with more blood, chairs and tables slashed to wood chips. The light lay on the floor, shattered into tiny mirror and glass shards. Turning to look out of the window, all Sam could see were woods stretching away into darkness. Sam felt his heartbeat increase even more and desperately sucked in a few deep breaths.

_Remember, stay calm, you'll figure this out..._

Sam looked down at himself and almost screamed. He was wearing a hospital gown that only came down to his knees. He glanced around anxiously, making sure that there was no one else in the room, his hands hovering in front of him to keep the gown below the waist.

"Hey, gorgeous."

Sam spun around, and then swore as the breeze whipped up the gown. The black-eyed woman on the other side of the room smirked and stepped forwards. Sam stepped back.

"What the hell is this? Where am I?"

"My latest hang out," the woman replied flippantly. She nudged the corpse with her foot, grinning. "Sorry, I meant to clean up the mess before any guests arrived."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "Where - am - I?" he said quietly.

Something flickered in the depths of her eyes - fear? - but she moved closer, pushing the smirk back onto her face. "In the woods a few miles away from your hopsital. It was easier for me."

"Good. Well, I'm leaving. Now."

Sam strode over to the door, keeping his hands at his sides, and tried to open it. It wouldn't budge. He tried again, and then turned to face the demon again.

"Okay. Very clever. Now let me outta here before I kill you, bitch."

"Whoa, now, starting to sound a little too much like your brother for my liking, Sammy. You wanna watch what you say around me."

"Oh yeah? And why's that bi-ah!"

Sam broke off as pain exploded behind his eyes. Darkness scattered across his vision, and all he could hear was a harsh, agony-filled screaming. Then he could feel the floor against his side, his fists pressed tightly against his temples, and realized that the screaming was coming from his own mouth. He cut off the scream and forced his eyes open, panting hard.

The woman crouched down before him, grinning. "Aw, did I hurt you? I'd say I was sorry but honestly... I'm not."

Sam felt something warm in his mouth, and then his chest heaved and he choked. Something thick and salty ran down from the corner of his mouth, and he realized that he had bitten his tongue somewhere in his blackout. Before he could wipe it away, the demon reached out and ran a finger over his lips, then placed it inside her own mouth. She smirked, lowering her finger.

"You taste good."

"Fuck off," he said hoarsely, his voice shaking almost as hard as his body.

She grinned and then striaghtened up. "I'll be back later, I wanna pick up some friends. And put on some clothes, I don't go for guys in dresses."

Before he could put her words together enough to respond, she was gone. He sat up slowly, wincing as his head seared.

_God, I hate demons._

Turning his head, he noticed a pair of jeans and boxers lying on the floor a few metres away. He hated to obey a demon, but he wasn't going to be able to fight anything off in a hospital gown.

So, hissing through his teeth as his head throbbed, he reached for the boxers.

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Bobby stopped his car outside the _Chicks and Guys _bar and got out of it, glancing down at his mobile as he did so. Dean still hadn't called him despite the fact that he had been leaving messages for at least two hours by now.

After realizing that Sam wasn't coming back, Dean had left the hospital screaming at Bobby that if he followed he would be dead before he could say a word. Bobby knew how much Dean was hurting right now so he had taken the hint and decided to leave him alone for a while, but then hadn't been able to get in touch with him. Now he was getting worried, so he had started searching the nearest bars and pubs around the hospital, leaving Henrickson in the motel room. He hadn't spoken a word to the officer since they had left the hospital together, but Henrickson had stuck with him like some dog which didn't know how to leave its master.

Now, Bobby pushed his way into the bar and wrinkled his nose at the choking fumes of smoke that had thickened the air. Heavy metal music pulsated through the room, which was filled with people sticking together in tight groups. Over at the bar the bartender was moving back and forwards between different customers, sometimes laughing with them, sometimes telling them that they'd had too many. Bobby looked around the crowded room, his eyes pausing on the dark tables in the corner, then the pool table, and finally the girls in the bar in case Dean was in any of these locations. No sign.

"C'mon, man, you've had enough."

"Nuh! Gimmie 'other... I wanna nice... pretty... nice tasty thing..."

Bobby turned towards the voice, finally noticing Dean sitting at the end of the bar jabbing a finger at the bartender. _Oh crap... _He headed towards the Winchester, readying himself for a tough time. He touched Dean on the shoulder. Dean turned to look at him, and gawked at him for a few moments before his unfocused eyes brightened.

"Boobie!" he yelled, and then burst out laughing. "Huh-huh-huh, I said Boobie instead of Bobby... ha-ha-ha... gawd, thats real funny... hey, bar person, gimmie one... and this nice man... what was yer name, pal?"

"Bobby," Bobby reminded him patiently. "Listen, Dean, how about we go home, huh?"

"Nah, Ben, we're jus gettin' started!"

"Bobby. And looks like you've started, finished, and over-stayed your welcome. C'mon, Dean."

Dean scowled. "Why's everyone wanna kill the fun? Yer blocking up my 'ead, Bob..."

"Bob-_by, _but almost. Dean, its time to go."

Dean grinned, his eyes sliding in and out of focus. "Okay, you're da boss, Bill. We go home..." he swung himself aburptly out of his chair, stumbled and dropped towards the floor. Bobby grabbed his arm, only just catching him in time, and heaved the sniggering Dean to his feet again.

"Ha-ha-ha, I fell down..."

"Okay, Dean, let's go."

He turned towards the bar tender, suddenly wondering how much Dean had drunk, but the man shook his head.

"No, no, just get him outta here. He's scared off at least five of my customers already."

Bobby nodded gratefully and moved towards the door, one arm around Dean's waist as the Winchester stumbled along beside him. Dean stopped abruptly, turning to look at a girl they were moving past and reached for her hand.

"Hey, gal, wazzup-whoa!"

He broke off as Bobby dragged him away. Dean laughed again.

"S'okay, Barry, I'm all yours!"

Gritting his teeth, Bobby managed to get Dean outside and into the car park before the Winchester's legs folded beneath him and he dropped to the floor, ending up sitting blankly in a large puddle. He looked down at himself, and then laughed goofily.

"I all wet..."

"Aw, geez, Dean, how could you get drunk now?"

Dean's grin vanished at once and his eyes brimmed with tears. Bobby's eyes widened in shock. Dean was... _crying? _How much had he drunk in there? Dean sobbed suddenly, tears rushing down his face.

"I c-c-can't s-s-save S-s-sammy... I lost m-m-my b-b-brother... s'all m-m-y f-f-f-fault..."

"No, no its not your fault calm down. Dean, its okay-"

"NO!"

Dean slammed his fist into the concrete, his eyes suddenly flashing with anger. "NO, its not okay! Sam's gonna die and its all my fault! There's _nothing _I can do! So tell me, buddy, what the hell is okay about that?"

Bobby looked away. Dean sniffed and dropped his gaze, his voice breaking again. "Aw, I hurt my hand... my life sucks..."

Bobby sighed and lifted Dean to his feet. "C'mon, Dean, lets go back to the motel."

He practically carried Dean to his truck and shoved him into the passenger seat. Halfway back to the motel, Dean leapt out of the car and threw up.

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Sam ran his hands over the last inch of the wall, and then sat back on his heels and burried his throbbing head in his shaking hands. There was no way out. He couldn't break the windows because the shattered edges always grew back before he could get out when he broke them. The door wouldn't open no matter what he did. There was no iron or salt in the room, nothing he could use as a weapon. And it was cold in the room, and all he was wearing were trainers and jeans since the demon hadn't brought him any shirt. Why she hadn't just killed him he didn't know.

But he was sure that it wasn't a good thing.

He sat back against the wall, swallowing hard. His chest ached slightly from its rapid heaving: he hadn't been able to slow his breathing or his heart rate. He could never seem to get enough oxygen into his body with just one breath, always having to follow it with a sharp other one. And he had found that the stinging on his shoulder was a wound which was heavily bandaged.

Something to do with a knife. Something to do with Dean.

Everything was strangely fuzzy, but he knew that he had been in trouble. He hadn't been thinking straight lately. And Dean hadn't been with him. But then Dean had found him... and he could remember that last moment in the hospital with all the pain and the demon crouching over him and Dean yelling his name.

But nothing else.

_At least I remember Dean..._

Sam looked up sharply as wind rushed through the room and the demon appeared. As he rose warily to his feet, two more demons appeared, both men.

"Hey, Sammy," she said smoothly, moving towards him. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

"Back off," Sam replied coldly.

She shook her head. "Not this time, Sam. First we're going to have a little bit of fun..."

**Oooooh, what will happen next? Hope you enjoyed the chapter, I'll update again soon! Please, please PLEASE review for me!**

**  
SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: I only own this story, not Supernatural or Sam and Dean!**

**Thanks so much for all the reviews so far, they keep me writing! P.S, thanks to Wanabeanautha for the drunken Dean idea in the last chapter - Thank you!  
**

_In the last chapter..._

_Sam jerked into awareness in complete darkness at the sound of his own rapidly beating heart._

_"Okay, very clever. Now let me outta here before I kill you, bitch."_

_You wanna watch what you say around me."_

_"Oh yeah? And why's that bi-ah!"_

_Sam broke off as pain exploded behind his eyes._

_"Aw did I hurt you? I'd say I was sorry but honestly... I'm not."_

_Meanwhille..._

_"Aw geez, Dean, how could you get drunk now?" Bobby groaned._

_Dean slammed his fist into the concrete, his eyes suddenly flashing with anger. "No, its not okay! Sam's gonna die and its all my fault! There's nothing I can do! So tell me, buddy, what the hell is okay about that?"_

_Then..._

_"Hey, Sammy. Sorry to keep you waiting."_

_"Back off," Sam replied coldly._

_She shook her head. "Not this time, Sam. First we're going to have a little bit of fun..."_

_Now..._

Sam moved backwards as the demon took a step forwards, his heart racing even faster than before. She smirked, her arms snaking together to fold over her chest.

"What's wrong, Sam? You're not scared of little old me, are you?"

"I'll kill you if you try anything," Sam warned her, trying his best to sound threatening.

She laughed out loud, her henchmen grinning on either side of her and shooting each other smirks. She shook back her hair, her teeth gleaming in the light.

"You're gonna kill me? Honey, I'd like to see you try."

Sam turned his head to look at the window. A few days ago, he could have shattered it just by blinking. But now...

He tried.

He tried again.

And again.

Nothing happened.

_Shit, shit... I'm screwed..._

"Having fun there, Sammy?"

Sam looked up at her, his hands shaking even more than before. She moved towards him, but this time he steeled himself not to move. He had to be like Dean, he had to be strong... he could do this... her hip nudged his, and she stroked his jaw with one hand.

"Do you even know who I am?"

He swallowed hard, ready to come back with some witty remark, but his lips wouldn't move and his mouth was dry. She grinned and leant closer, molding her body against his.

"Sylvia. Lilith's second in command. Her best buddie... and you killed her, didn't you?"

A vague memory of bones snapping like twigs beneath his fingers, of souless white eyes burning with hells fire leapt into Sam's head. He blinked, his eyebrows rising.

"I... I..."

"So you managed to save your precious brother," she interrupted his stammering, gliding her hands over his bare chest. "But not for long, sugar. We're gonna tear him apart... right after you."

"Don't you dare touch him," Sam whispered.

Her mouth twisted into a skull's grin. "Baby, just try and stop me. I control the hell hounds now. I control the deals." She lifted one hand, the fingers slender and pale as the fronds of an anenome in the moonlight. "Just one _snap -_" she clicked her fingers " - and they're loose."

Sam's brain was jamming. His headache throbbed in his temples, preventing him from thinking straight. All he could think of was Dean dying, Dean being ripped apart, Dean screaming...

"No, no..."

"Yes, yes," she replied. Sylvia leaned forwards and kissed him, her lips cold as ice. "Face it, Sammy. You and your brother... you're both mine now."

"_No." _Sam pulled free, shoving her roughly away. "You're not touching him. You're not."

One eyebrow arched as she took a step forwards, something glinting in her eyes. "Oh really?"

Sam's fists clenched. Then he pulled his arm back and threw a punch at her smirking face. She wove out of the way so fast that he stumbled forwards with the momentum of his own blow. Then something jerked him sideways and he flew straight into the wall. White dots exploded in front of his eyes and his head screamed in protest. He tumbled to the floor and lay there, dazed, his hands clasped to his forehead.

"Ah... gah..."

"Its not nice to hit, Sammy," her snake-like voice called in a sing-song tone.

Sam forced his eyes open, his face twisting in pain. He tried to scream at her, tell her to go to hell, but all that came out was a strangled moan. Sylvia strode over to him and crouched over him, her hands tracing his stomach.

"We're going to have to teach you Sammy."

"O-only Dean can c-call me Sammy," Sam spluttered.

She grinned. "We'll see about that."

She leant down, wrapping herself around his body like a python, nuzzling into his shoulder, her hands fisting in his hair. Her lips parted beside his ear, and he flinched away from the icy, stale breath that whispered in and out. She sighed quietly, and then whispered three words laced with evil.

_"Time to play."_

Then pain screamed into him like an atom bomb, and he screamed as he was pitched forwards into oblivian.

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Dean's ass hurt.

He groaned as he cracked his eyes open and light spilled into his brain, melting him from the inside out. He grabbed the pillow and shoved it over his head, groaning again as his stomach rolled.

"Well, guess who woke up."

The words rang in his mind like church bells. He winced, rolling into a ball. "G'way..."

"Go away? But I thought you wanted to see your dear friend Barry and Bill and Bert or whatever other dumb names you gave me last night." Someone ripped the pillow from his grasp and shoved a steaming cup of coffee into his face. "Sorry, Dean, no time for sleeping. We gotta find Sam."

"S'm?" Dean looked up at the man standing over him, slowly taking the coffee. Bobby. Bobby looking pissed... why? He frowned, and then his face cleared as the memories of the night before krept back into his mind. "Aw, crap..."

"How could you get drunk now, Dean? Right when we need to help Sam more than ever? He could be dead by now!"

Dean flinched at the hunter's words, cringing back slightly. "I know, I know... I wasn't thinkin'..."

"Well, anyone could see that," Bobby muttered, crossing to sit on the end of the other bed.

Dean ran one hand over his face, squeezing his eyes shut against the world. "Jesus... how could I be so... sonuvabitch..."

Bobby's face softened. "Okay, okay, kid don't go beatin' yourself up. You've been through a lot, its not your fault."

"I'm suposed to look out for him... damn it..."

As Bobby opened his mouth, the door to their room opened and Henrickson moved inside, a brown paper bag in one hand. "I gotcha some breakfast. You know, as a peace offering? Is Dean..."

His voice trailed off as Dean's eyes fixed on him and turned cold as ice. "You," Dean snarled, leaping to his feet and slamming the coffee down on the bedside table so that the brown liquid splashed onto the floor. "You... this is _all your fault!"_

Before Henrickson could respond, Dean threw himself forwards and grabbed Henrickson by the throat, slamming him back against the wall. His eyes burned with hatred and greif, his teeth were bared in a savage snarl of fury.

"You sonuvabitch, Henrickson! What the hell were you thinking? You've killed my brother, Henrickson, you handed him over to them!"

Henrickson struggled weakly against Dean's grasp, his mouth gaping wide in search for air. "D-Dean," he rasped.

"_You sonuvabitch, Henrickson!"_

"Dean!" Bobby leapt forwards and grabbed Dean's arms, trying to pull him away from the officer. "Dean, for gods sake, it won't help anything."

Dean ignored him, his eyes blazing fire. He let go with one hand and sank it into Henrickson's stomach, causing the other man to double over. Then he swung his fist upwards, catching him across the jaw. As Henrickson stumbled to the floor and Dean flowed towards him, Bobby grabbed him around the chest and dragged him backwards.

"Dean, listen! Dean! _DEAN!"_

"YOU SONUVABITCH, I'M GONNA KILL YOU, HENRICKSON!"

"Dean, stop-"

"No! _No! _Lemme go, NOW!"

Bobby tightened his grip on the older Winchester, painfully aware that if Dean should turn on him, he wouldn't stand a chance.

It looked like Sam wasn't the only terrifying Winchester anymore.

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Sam woke screaming.

Then his instincts kicked in, and he cut off the scream sharply. _Be quiet. Hide. They won't find you if you're quiet... _even though his breathing would give him away... and yet, as he rose to his feet, he was breathing normally. And he wasn't shaking. He couldn't hear his heart beating in his ears. He frowned, looking around. A house. A room that was strangely familiar...

_I'm home._

Sam's eyebrows shot upwards in shock. How the hell had he got home to Lawrence? What had happened? But, as he looked more carefully at the room around him - his nursery, exactly as he had seen it in his vision with the yellow-eyed demon last year - he could see that the colours of the room were faded, as if it were late evening. Frowning, he reached out and brushed a hand over the cot beside him. It was almost too perfect...

"Its not real," he murmured aloud. "Its not real..."

He turned and crossed to the window, shoving the curtains apart. Directly outside, everything was a peircing, blinding white. Sam blinked against it for a few seconds, and then closed the curtains. Well, that proved it. He was somewhere else, not in the real world.

Muffled shouts from downstairs tugged him to the doorway of his room. He looked around slowly, wetting his lips, swallowing hard. He remembered this hallway. Maybe he could try to find his mum and dad's room. His heart thumping hopefully, he went to the nearest door and pushed it open. White light flared up in front of him, blocking out any other details, and he flinched back. The door slammed shut on its own. Sam stared at it, panting slightly from the shock.

_What if... I can only see stuff I can remember?_

_What if this is in my head? In my memories?_

The thoughts trickled down his spine like icy fingers, and he turned quickly towards the stairs. The voices rose again, strangely familiar, furiously shouting over each other. Hesitantly, Sam made his way down the stairs.

But, instead of entering the kitchen he had seen when he and Dean had returned to their home on a hunt once before, he emerged into a motel room. Frowning, he turned and tried to go back, but all that was behind him now was a blank wall. His eyebrow arched.

"What the..."

"I don't care! It was _mine _and you shouldn't have taken it from my room!"

Sam spun around. Before him in the room were two boys; one four, one nine. The older boy's face was flushed with anger, and his small fists were balled. The younger boy was staring up at him defiantly, a toy soldier clutched in his chubby hands.

But the younger boy was Sam.

And the older Dean.

And Sam remembered all too well this little experience.

"But I wanted to pway wid it," the younger version of himself whined. "You _sed _we shuld share. You _sed..._"

"But you didn't even ask! Dad gave me that, its _special! _You know that's my special soldier!"

"But _I _wanted it!"

Dean scowled, and then made a grab for the toy. He took hold of it firmly, his small knuckles turning white as he strained against his smaller brother. "Give it back, Sam!"

"No!"

Sam pulled back hard, and a short, sharp _snap _rang through the air. Both boys froze. Then Sam dropped the half of the toy he was holding and scrambled away. Dean dropped to his knees, reaching to pick up the two halves of the soldier. "You broke it," he whispered.

"_You _broke it," Sam said uncertainly, hovering nearby the real Sam. Then he lifted his chin, scowling, doing his best to come up with some excuse, some defence. "Serves you right anyway, dummy. You're just... stupid!"

And with that the smaller Sam turned and fled, rushing striaght through the real Sam and vanishing. Sam was left staring at the nine-year-old Dean who was still kneeling on the floor, cradling the broken toy. His eyes brimmed with tears of hurt and shock. Then he rose to his feet, crossed to the bin and violently threw the peices into the trash.

"Dean," Sam whispered.

Dean turned, and for a moment Sam thought he'd heard him. Then he strode forwards, brushing the tears forcefully from his eyes. "Sammy, its time for your bath," he called, his voice shaking as he moved straight through Sam and vanished. Sam was left alone, his stomach twisting with guilt.

"I'm sorry, Dean," he muttered.

"A little late for that, don't you think?"

Sam whirled around, his fists balling in a startling resembelence to the Dean who had just vanished. Sylvia was standing behind him, her eyes glittering. Sam's eyes narrowed.

"If you're trying to mess with my head, its not going to work!"

"Please, honey, you'll be begging for death before the end is even in sight," she replied, grinning. "Besides, we've hardly seen anything yet."

"Fuck off."

She feigned hurt. "Not nice, Sammy, not nice at all."

All at once a thousand images pressed in on him. A sparring session when Sam had struck Dean across the face and caused a huge gash which hadn't healed for months... that time when Dean had taken the blame for something Sam had done and hadn't had the guts to own up to and been screamed at by one of their scariest teachers... when Sam had shot at a werewolf without thinking and missed, hitting Dean in the leg instead... that night when Sam had left for colleage and Dean had come after him to ask him to stay, and he'd completely pushed him away... that night when he had left Dean again to look for their dad in California, leaving Dean alone and almost getting him killed... every single time he had let his brother down beating over him like the rays of a firey sun...

"Stop it!"

The images ceased, and Sam found himself on his knees with his hands pressed to his head. Sylvia was crouching in front of him, a feline smile playing around her lips. She reached out and stroked the side of his face and he shuddered, twitching away from her touch.

"But Sammy, we've only just started."

"Get away from me."

"He's better off without you. All the pain you've already caused... don't you think you've done enough to ruin his life?"

Sam pressed his hands over his eyes to block her out. A child-like voice screamed out inside him, begging for help.

_Dean... I want Dean... Dean, help me..._

"Shut up."

Sam looked up, lowering his hands. "I... I didn't say anything..."

Sylvia's eyes had widened in a sudden fear, and she had shifted backwards a little. "Shut up, now! Don't do that!"

Sam frowned. _Dean..._

"Stop it!"

A flash of inspiration flashed into Sam's head, and he shut his eyes.

_"Dean!" _He called, speaking aloud alongside his thoughts. _"Dean, help me. DEAN!!"_

At the same time, only a few miles away, Dean froze in his struggles against Bobby. Then he let out an agonized scream and fell to the floor, his body convulsing violently as Sam's power flowed into him.

**So? Good or bad? Please, please review, sorry its taken a few days!**

**SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: I only own this story, not Supernatural or Sam and Dean!**

_In the last chapter..._

_"Dean!" Sam called, speaking aloud alongside his thoughts. "Dean, help me. DEAN!"_

_At the same time, only a few miles away, Dean froze in his struggles against Bobby. Then he let out an agonized scream and fell to the floor, his body convulsing violently as Sam's power flowed into him.  
_

_Now..._

Agony stabbed into Dean like a spear on fire and he threw himself to the side in a helpless effort to escape it, his fingers digging into his head. Images of Sam flickered before him, Sam in a wooden room, and he could see trees out of the window-

"SAM!"

The pain escaleted and Dean let out another scream, curling in on himself. His whole body jerked and trembled as a blinding power rushed into him, more than anything he had ever felt before... it was going to kill him, he could tell... too much... to hot...

"SAMMY, STOP, PLEASE!!"

He barely heard his own voice begging wildly above the roaring of the fire that had enveloped him. He lashed out, panicked, and his hand connected with something. He heard someone shouting in horror, heard gasping breath nearby him but he couldn't catch hold of any of it. He couldn't think, he couldn't breathe...

_"Where am I?"_

_"In the woods a few miles away from your hospital. It was easier for me."_

_Wooden room, greyish white skin of a corpse, chairs and tables slashed to wood chips..._

"S-Sam," Dean gasped, his body shuddering as the insane power began to overwhelm him. "S-Sammy, please..."

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_"Dean, help me, please Dean, I need you..."_

Sam could dimly hear his brother shouting somewhere, but he couldn't understand what he was saying. Still, his heart leapt with sudden hope. Dean could hear him! Dean would come and get him. Encouraged, he increased his efforts.

_"Dean!"_

He heard a muffled 'Sam' as if from underwater and relief broke out across him.

He was as good as safe.

_Sammy, stop, please!_

Sam's eyebrows shot upwards. Stop? Why? What was wrong? He shook his head and then tried to pull away from his brother like he had been asked, but somehow he couldn't. Instead, their connection grew stronger.

_What? No, stop! Stop it! _he yelled at himself, his hands falling from his temples. "Dean!" he called aloud, suddenly fearful. Something was very wrong, he could tell. His ears caught a whispered plea, so weak that it was barely audiable.

_"S-Sam... S-Sammy... please..."_

_No, no, no... _he was hurting him. He was hurting Dean somehow. Desperately, Sam tried to backtrack but nothing happened. He couldn't control it, he didn't understand-

Something slammed into the side of his head and pain exploded through him. His eyes snapped open, his lips parted in a sharp gasp of shock as he flew sideways into the wall and then lay still, unable to move. He turned his head, wincing at the pain that jabbed into his neck and looked up as Syliva moved over to him, one hand still outstretched.

"I warned you," she mumbled, her voice shaking. "I warned you... so maybe you do have some telepathic abilities left, but its still nothing compared to me."

Sam focused on breathing. He waited, biting his lip... no. He couldn't feel Dean anymore.

Was that good? Or did it mean that... oh god. He hadn't killed him, had he?

"Up," Sylvia snarled coldly, reaching down and dragging him to his feet. "We're not done."

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Bobby touched his jaw in the place where Dean had hit him and felt blood. Dean had actually taken some skin off... he watched in horror as Dean jerked wildly on the floor, sweat standing out on his forehead. Henrickson hovered anxiously behind him, his eyes wide with panic.

"What do we do? Bobby!"

Bobby jerked himself out of the trance he had slid into and stepped back away from Dean. "I don't know, this has never happened before."

"Its Sam, it must be," Henrickson said, almost to himself. "Move the table away from him, make sure he doesn't hurt himself."

Blindly, Bobby followed his instructions. Henrickson pushed the chairs near Dean back against the wall, so that Dean was lying in a large space. Then he stood still, clearly thinking.

"We shouldn't touch him," he muttered.

"You think?" Bobby asked, scowling.

Henrickson glanced at him, and then looked back at Dean. "I don't think Sam realizes what he's doing. Maybe he's trying to call for help or something..."

His voice trailed off as Dean let out one last yelp and then fell surprisingly still. Henrickson and Bobby glanced at each other. Then, throwing caution to the winds, Bobby crouched down beside Dean and rolled his limp figure onto his back. He held a hand just above Dean's mouth, holding his breath until he felt small, shallow breaths against his palm. He looked up at Henrickson.

"He's alive," he said, his voice trembling with relief. "He's alive."

Henrickson nodded and joined him beside Dean. "What the hell was that?"

Bobby just shook his head. "Here. Help me get him on the bed."

Together they lifted Dean's unconscious form from the floor and laid him on the bed on his back, slightly more carefully than the night before when Bobby had tossed him there and then stormed off to buy a drink. Bobby knelt down by the edge of the bed and shook his shoulder gently.

"Dean? You hear me, boy?"

Dean didn't respond.

"I think I prefered it when he was trying to beat me up," Henrickson muttered from behind him.

Bobby nodded, pressing his lips together tightly.

"Any ideas?"

Bobby shook his head. Henrickson sighed and moved to sit on the other bed, rubbing the places where Dean had hit him only a few minutes ago.

"Great," he muttered.

**Sorry this chapter was so short but I wanted to get it down before I forgot any of it. Thanks for all the reviews, please leave more! Hope you enjoyed it!  
**

**SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: I only own this story, not Supernatural or Sam and Dean!**

**Sorry for the wait, if anyone's still reading this story!  
**

Sam was sure he was bleeding. He could feel something warm and thick and sticky trickling down over his face from his left temple, and when he moved his head the room span. Strange, he didn't think you _could _bleed when you were inside your own head. Sylvia stood before him, her fists clenched, her hair flying around her face in her rage. But somehow, none of it mattered.

Dean might be dead.

And it might be Sam's fault.

"We're not done," Sylvia repeated coldly, her eyes darkening to liquid black. "You're still mine, Sammy."

Sam blinked at her, suddenly unable to think. She took a step closer and he took a stumbling step away from her, his head swimming.

_My head... my head... I control it..._

He shut his eyes tightly, his head searing as he did his best to force his way out of his mental prison. He heard her laughing, her voice echoing as if from far away.

"You don't have enough power to escape me now, thanks to dear little Ruby. You can run but you can't hide," she shouted, her voice adopting a sing-song tone.

Sam opened his eyes, breathing hard. And blinked. He was in a forest, at twilight. And she was gone. He realized that he was on his knees, and scrambled to his feet. Blood ran into his eye and he wiped it away. He was sure that he hadn't woken up, but then why hadn't Sylvia just followed him?

All at once a snarling, snapping blur shot into the clearing he was standing in and swung around, eyes catching the moonlight. A werewolf... oh. Sam remembered this now. He turned his head away, shutting his eyes again, but this time nothing happened. Then he realized: it hadn't been him, Sylvia had brought him. She was enjoying herself. He turned away to try to walk away, but then a voice shouted and he turned back, unable to ignore it.

"Dean, I got it!"

He watched as a younger version of himself skidded into the clearing, lifting a gun. The teen Sam fired at the werewolf wildly, the bullets rocketing off trees, completely missing. The werewolf stalked forwards, growling, its teeth glinting. A second voice cried out from somewhere in the forest.

"Sam wait! Don't attack it without me, its too strong!" Dean's voice yelled.

Teen-Sam ignored him, aiming again at the werewolf as it prowled closer. He fired again and a bullet grazed its arm. It flinched backwards, and then dived forwards, furious. Sam froze, the gun hanging in his hands, panic stricken at the sight of the monster surging towards him.

"Sammy!"

The real Sam flinched as Dean sprinted from the woods and threw himself at the werewolf, taking them both to the ground. They rolled over, the werewolf slashing at Dean's face, scarlet blood soaking into the ground. Dean struggled against it, pinned to the floor, desperately trying to hold it back.

"S-Sam, shoot it!" he gasped, his arms shaking with the strain as he pushed the werewolf's snapping face back. "Sam, quick!"

Teen Sam lifted his gun, but didn't shoot. His eyes were wide with fear, his hands shaking wildly. "Dean... I can't... I'll hit you..."

"Sammy, now!" Dean hissed. He let out a harsh scream as the werewolf clawed his face. This time both Sams flinched.

"Dean! Sam, move!"

Sam watched as their father reached the clearing, shoving Sam to the side and firing at the werewolf. His single shot hit it in the chest and it dropped to the floor, roaring in pain. Its failing clawed hands snatched at Dean as the boy curled into a ball, small sobs escaping from his mouth as the pain set in. John Winchester fired again, and the monster fell still. John let his gun fall and ran to Dean, pulling his son into his arms.

"I gotcha, Dean, you're gonna be fine," he murmured, wiping away the blood on Dean's face. More blood instantly welled up in the thick gashes, and John paled. "Sam, call nine one one."

Teen Sam didn't moved. Sam pressed his hands against his face to block it all out, but he could still hear it.

"Sam, now! Sam, for fucks sake, can't you do anything?"

It had hurt then, and it hurt now. Clenching his jaw, Sam pulled himself away and ducked into the forest. He had to find his way out of this hell, before he lost himself in his own memories.

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Dean felt himself slowly moving back into consciousness. He pushed his eyes open, a low moan escaping from his lips as his head seared with agony. He rolled his head away from the light, wincing, and a hand came down on his arm.

"Dean? Dean, c'mon, wake up."

Dean pulled away from the voice, but something in his head told him to stop being such a wimp and wake up because someone needed him... someone needed help...

"S'mmy," he groaned, his eyes flickering open.

"Dean? You hearing me?"

Bobby. Dean turned his head, squinting up at the older man, the hunter's face slowly wavering into sight.

"Dean," Bobby called again. "Dean, answer me, boy."

Dean wet his lips. His throat was paper dry, but he managed to rasp out a sentence. "Bobby... w-wha... 'appened?"

Bobby smiled in relief. "That's what I was about to ask you. You okay?"

"Mm tired..."

"Well, don't go to sleep. You have no idea how long we've been waiting for you to wake up." Bobby looked over his shoulder at someone. "Get him some water, quickly."

Dean allowed his eyes to drift closed, and Bobby squeezed his shoulder.

"Stay with me Dean, just for a little bit longer."

Dean moaned but opened his eyes a crack in response. "G'sum... tynl..."

"What?"

He concentrated harder on moving his heavy tongue around his mouth. "Ya got some t-tylenol..."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll get some."

Bobby moved out of sight. Dean blinked a few times, trying to make himself adjust to the light. Before he knew it Bobby was back, shaking his arm gently.

"C'mon, Dean, you gotta sit up for me."

Dean's mind instantly shied away, but he forced himself to nod and push himself up a little. His head screamed in agony and darkness swarmed in on him, but when the black dots cleared he was resting back against the head board, Bobby holding him in place with a hand on his shoulder, calling his name.

"Dean? Dean, wake up, come on. I've got some painkillers."

That woke him up a little. He forced his eyes open and looked up at Bobby. Bobby held out a glass of water and some tablets. He practically had to feed them to Dean himself: Dean barely had enough energy to keep his eyes open. But, after the tablet, the pain in his head eased a little and he found that he could open his eyes without the light hurting them too much. Bobby sat down on the edge of the bed, unable to move his hand away just yet.

"Dean, d'you know what the hell just happened?"

Dean's brow creased as he struggled to remember. "Uh... I got mad at... at Henrickson. And then there was like this... this pain in my head. And I could hear Sam... Sam!" He sat bolt upright, and then winced and touched his head. "Ah... jeez..."

"Dean?"

Dean looked up at him again, the pain his sudden movement had caused slowly ebbing away. He locked eyes with Bobby. "Bobby... I know where Sammy is."

**Again, sorry for such a long wait and sorry the chapter's so short but I've just been sooo busy lately. Please please review, I promise to update sooner this time!**

**SUPRNTRAL LVR.  
**


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: I only own this story, not Supernatural or Sam and Dean!**

Bobby threw a duffel bag filled with weapons into the back of the Impala and shut the boot before glancing over at the motel room. Dean was making his way out of the room slowly, massaging his temple with one hand, his eyes barely focusing on where he was going. Bobby blew out through his nose and strode over to meet him, concern making his voice sharper than he had intended.

"Dean, for the last time, just sit down and me and Henrickson will deal with stuff."

Dean shot him a raised-eyebrowed glance. "I'm not dying, Bobby, I have a headache. Jeez, what are you, my mother?"

Bobby made a face at him and pulled the credit card out of Dean's hand. "Henrickson!" he yelled.

Henrickson appeared in the doorway, a bag in one hand. Bobby held out the card. "Pay for the room, would ya? I'll get that."

"Bobby," Dean began, but Bobby pushed the card at Henrickson and took the bag before putting his hand on Dean's shoulder and steering him towards the Impala. He glanced over his shoulder, waiting until Henrickson was out of earshot before he spoke.

"Dean, I really don't think you're up to this," he muttered, throwing the bag into the back seat.

Dean stared at him coldly. "Those demons aren't going to wait for us to arrive before they kill Sam. Sam wouldn't hesitate if our places were reversed. Sam-"

"Wouldn't want his brother getting killed because he can barely stand up without his head giving him hell!" Bobby interrupted. "If we waited just a few more hours, gave you time to recover..."

Dean's eyes flashed. "No. By then Sam could be dead." And then, as Bobby opened his mouth, "No, Bobby! I'm going now, with or without you."

Bobby heaved a sigh, shaking his head. "Okay. Get in the car, then."

Dean nodded and reached for the door to the driver's side of the car, but Bobby stopped him.

"And no, you're not driving like this."

Dean scowled but moved around the car to the other side. Bobby glanced over his shoulder. "I'll get Henrickson. Don't leave without us."

"I won't if you come back within two minutes," Dean muttered.

Bobby rolled his eyes and headed towards the reception of the motel. He ducked inside just as Henrickson reached for the door. Bobby started, and then looked past him at the reception desk.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah."

"Then lets get moving."

Henrickson followed him out, but Bobby slowed their pace. He looked over at Henrickson, hesitaing. "Look, Henrickson... I've been thinking about what you did back at the hospital."

Henrickson's eyes darkened. "Look, I'm sorry, I am, but I was just trying to help and you guys were too stubborn to do what had to be done. If I'd only pronounced a few of the words better then I could've done it and-"

"Its not that. Actually, I was amazed that anyone as inexperienced as you could summon so many demons on your first try." He paused, wondering if he was pushing this in the right direction. "You've been reading my books, haven't you?"

Henrickson nodded warily, clearly unsure of where this little chat was going. Bobby glanced at him.

"How do you kill a werewolf?"

"Put a silver bullet in its heart."

"Vampire?"

"Beheading. They're also weakened by dead man's blood."

"Demon?"

Henrickson smiled slightly. "You can only send them back to hell in an excorsism. Unless you use Ruby's famous knife or the colt. What is this about?"

Bobby ran his tongue around his teeth, playing for time. "You're picking all this up pretty fast, considering no ones taught you anything yet." He stopped as they reached the Impala, not wanting Dean to hear this just yet in case he became angry again. "I was thinking... maybe after we've fixed this mess, I could start you off."

Henrickson's eyebrows shot upwards. "Seriously? What made you change your mind?"

Bobby shook his head. "With things as big as this going down, us hunters need all the help we can get," he muttered.

Henrickson's delight faded slightly, and Bobby forced himself to smile. "Stay alert. With Dean so weak we're gonna have to be more careful."

And with that he pulled open the driver's door and slid into the car. He shot a sideways glance at Dean as Henrickson got into the back, wondering if the man had heard any of their conversation, but Dean was leaning against the window pinching the bridge of his nose. In the shadow the car was casting, he looked shockingly similar to Sam. Bobby pushed the keys into the ignition and started the engine, his mouth set in a grim line.

"Okay," he said. "You're giving the directions, Dean."

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For a place that was inside his own head, the forest was surprisingly realistic.

Sam pushed aside the damp fronds of the thick pine trees, a thin spray of dew flying back into his face as he did so. He ducked through the small gap he had made for himself, stepping over knarled, curling roots, pines swiping at his face and leaving a streak of raindrops across his cheek. A gust of cold wind swept through the trees and rose goosebumps on his arms. He shivered slightly and then slowed to a halt, glancing around. He had been forcing his way through the forest for at least an hour by now and nothing had happened - the trees hadn't thinned, Sylvia hadn't returned, and he'd heard nothing more from his past-self, past-Dean or past-John. He had just been... walking.

He scanned the darkn trees, struggling to pick out anything other than wood.

He failed.

He let out a long sigh and leant back against a tree... and fell straight through it. Sam was so surprised that he didn't even scream, he just stretched his arms wildly out in front of him as if trying to feel for the ground. He felt it well enough when it slammed into him face-first. He let out a strangled gasp of pain, slowly rolling his way onto his back so that he could force some gulps of air into his winded lungs. It was only after he'd managed to suck in a few lungfuls and the pain began to dull that he heard her laughing.

"Well, I've gotta admit, that was the best fall I've ever seen anyone take. You just dropped in there like some kind of dead cow - hands straight out. You know you could have broken your arm, right? Or maybe even both of them."

Sam pushed his eyes open and looked up at Sylvia, who was standing over him. She grinned and raised a hand, wiggling her fingers in a wave.

"Hi, Sammy."

Sam groaned and sat up, rubbing his neck. "How much longer? You just gonna keep this up for the rest of your miserable little life?"

Sylvia chuckled. "Nope, just for the rest of your life. Which will be over within the next few minutes."

Sam pushed himself up to his feet. "My brother's gonna come for me. He'll kill you."

"Your brother's already dead."

Sam's stomach dropped away, but he managed to keep his face expressionless. "No he's not."

"You killed him."

"You're lying."

"I'm not."

Sam felt something inside him shiver, but then instead of greif he felt anger. He stepped forwards, so that his face was only a few inches from her's. "Let me out," he snarled. "Let me out of my head."

"Make me."

She was toying with him, trying to mess him up. Sam gritted his teeth, fighting down his rage. "Just let - me - out! This is my head, its not yours to control!"

"Then get out yourself." Her lips curled into a cruel smirk. "Oh, wait... you can't, can you?"

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Dean awoke to Bobby shaking him awake. His head seared as he opened his eyes and he winced before remembering that he was supposed to be acting like he was fine otherwise Bobby would probably tie him to the Impala to make him remain behind. Quickly he put on the mask and sat up, rubbing the back of his head.

"We there?"

Bobby nodded. "Just like you said, right in the woods. There's a cabin up there, you can see the lights."

Dean leaned forwards and stared up through the glass, just catching sight of a pair of lit windows almost hidden by the trees. His head throbbed slightly and he winced. This was definately the place, he was sure. He glanced at Bobby.

"They can't see us, right?"

"Black car, blacker woods," Bobby replied, gesturing to the thick trees around them. "They won't see us." He looked over his shoulder. "Henrickson, ready?"

"As ever," Henrickson muttered, clicking his gun off the safety.

They climbed out of the car and ducked into the trees. Dean's head screamed in agony every time he ducked under a low-hanging branch or jumped down from a log, and several times he had to stop and wait for the pain to receede before he continued. Bobby stayed close to him, making him aware of how slowly he was moving. He fought down the anger he felt at himself and searched for something to say. He didn't have to think long.

"How're we gonna get in there?"

"I don't know."

Dean sighed and looked up at the cabin which wasn't even that far away now. He thought of Sam and his stomach curled. "Do you... D'you think they've hurt him?"

Bobby shook his head, unable to speak.

Dean swallowed hard. "They probably will have. They're probably still hurting him..."

He slowled to a halt.

Bobby glanced at him, and then reached out to take his arm. "Dean, this is no time for a brain-freeze. Come on."

"No, no, wait," Dean said, beginning to move again. "What if they are? And if he's still..." _say it... _"still conscious, he can get out of there on his own if we make up a distraction. Even better if you guys make a distraction and I'll go in for him, I can get him out myself."

"Dean, that's a big if. And even if that would work, you can't go in there like this."

"Yeah? Just watch me." Dean held the other man's gaze. "We can do it. _I _can do it."

Bobby hesitated, and then nodded. "Okay. What kind of distraction?"

Dean began to walk faster, looking around. "Henrickson? Henrickson!"

Henrickson emerged from the trees ahead of them. "What's taking you so long?"

Dean smiled, but there was no friendliness in the expression, only a cold sarcasm. "Ready to do a little ritual with us?"

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Sam stepped back as Sylvia took a step forwards, and her smirk widened.

"Whats the matter, Sam? You scared of me?"

Sam opened his mouth to reply but before he could get a single word past his lips her fist lashed out and sent him flying backwards. He dropped to the floor and skidded back a little before coming to a stop, fresh blood rushing from his nose. He scrambled to his knees but she came in at him again, striking him across the face and sending him to the floor again. As he lay stunned, she crouched down over him and placed one hand on his chest, her nails digging into his skin so hard that she drew five tiny semi-circles of blood. Her eyes flooded black and agony screamed out in Sam's chest. He let out a yelp, trying to cringe away but she brought her other hand down on his shoulder and held him still.

"Ripping the heart out through the chest is an ancient method of sacrifice," she murmured. "Fitting for the anti-christ, don't you think?"

Sam let out a harsh scream as the pain swelled and warm blood spilled over his chest. _Dean! _he screamed in his head. _Dean, help me... DEAN!_

It was at that moment that Sylvia let out a piercing screech and fell away from him, and his vision exploded with colour.

**There you go, a - hopefully - decent chapter and a nice cliffie to finish off! Hopefully there's still someone reading this story, if so please review! Sorry for such a long wait, but my life has been getting in my way all through this past week!**

**SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: I only own this story, not Supernatural or Sam and Dean!**

The blaring colour was gone, but Sam's chest was still searing with agony. Once again his body was running on super-high; his breathing, heart rate and trembling hands hugely accelerated. He let out a yelp and rolled onto his side, crossing his arms tightly over his torso, his arms shaking as warm blood trickled over them. Looking up, he saw Sylvia scramble to her feet, her face a mask of rage as the two other demons moved forwards to help her up. As she stared at him in shock and fury, he realized with a jolt that he was back in the wooden room... and out of his own head.

As he grabbed the wall and levered himself into a sitting poistion, Sylvia let out a harsh roar of anger.

"What the hell was that? What happened?"

"We don't know, we felt it too," the red-haired demon growled, looking around warily. "It was almost like a ritual... you think they're coming for him?"

Sam's head jerked upwards. _Dean's okay.... Dean's coming for me... _Sylvia met his gaze and her face twisted in rage.

"What - did - you - _do?!_" she hissed.

Sam gritted his teeth and rose slowly to his feet, gasping slightly at the agony in his chest. Now that he had stopped to think, he could suddenly feel the wild electricity crackling through his viens once again, the strange likeness that confused him so much. Looking down, he could clearly see the dark blood standing out against his pale skin, rushing down from somewhere around his heart. She really hadn't held back... forcing down a few deeper breaths, he looked up at her. She was still staring at him, her eyes glittering.

"What d'ya wanna do?" the blond demon murmured.

She didn't look at it, but kept her gaze on Sam.

"Go out and kill them," she snarled. "Kill all of them. I don't care who it is."

Nodding, the demons turned and strode to the door. Sylvia took a step forwards, and Sam wet his lips.

"My brother's going to rip your head from your shoulders," he warned, his voice shaking.

Sylvia smirked. "Really? Well, I'd like to see him try."

She flicked her hand upwards and Sam was thrown back against the back wall, letting out a scream as the sudden movement sent waves of pain over his chest. Sylvia stepped forwards, her eyes narrowing.

"I'm fed up of looking at your face," she snarled, almost to herself. "I don't want to see it anymore."

There was something in her voice, something dark and sinister that set off the alarm bells in Sam's head. He clenched his jaw, struggling desperately against her hold.

_Hurry, Dean! _he yelled inside. _Please!_

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Dean heard them coming before he saw them.

Running his tongue over his lips, he shrank back into the dark trees and lowered himself to his hands and knees, taking on a position like a sprinter waiting for the gun. He kept his eyes on the glimmering lights of the cabin, now only a few ten meters away. He could hear their snarling breaths, and then a few moments later they streaked past him, fleeting blurred shapes in the darkness. Bobby and Henrickson had lit a fire further below and were reciting random rituals to call the demons away. Just as long as there were only the three Dean had seen in the hotel room, things should run smoothly. Dean checked his rock salt rifle, checked that he could still feel the weight of his dad's journal in his pocket.

He took a deep breath.

Then he threw himself up and hit the ground running, his eyes fixed on the cabin. His head swung sickeningly but he managed to keep in a straight line. He had to make it. He had to make it for Sam.

After a few moments the smooth wood of the front door was under his fingertips. He pulled out the rock salt gun, took a second deep breath to steady his spinning head, and then kicked the door open and ducked inside, a harsh shout ripping from his lips. He had about two seconds to take in the room, the possessed woman swinging around to face him and Sam pinned against the opposite wall with blood rushing over his chest. Then, before he had time to react, he was thrown into the wall by an invisible force and his head exploded in pain. He heard himself yelp, heard the thud as he hit the floor but he couldn't feel anything for a few moments. Then his head began to pound and he shook himself, looking up as the woman moved to stand before him.

"Pathetic, how you keep coming back. You're like some dumb dog that just doesnt get that the owner doesn't want it anymore."

Dean scowled at her as he rose to his knees, putting one hand to his head. "Sammy! You okay?"

"Dean!" Sam's voice shook as he spoke, sending fear stabbing into Dean's stomach.

With a snarl of fury, Dean scrambled to his feet and lifted the rock salt rifle he had miraculously managed to keept hold of. He raised it to fire at the demon, but within the blink of an eye she was directly in front of him and ripping the rifle from his hands, throwing it across the room. She slammed him back against the wall and placed her hand on his chest, her fingers digging painfully into his skin.

"Fine," she snarled. "No more playing around. You die first."

Agony exploded in his chest and Dean let out a harsh yell of pain. He heard Sam weakly calling his name and lifted his head to see tears rushing down his brother's face. He tried to call out to him but all he could do was mouth Sam's name. Darkness was closing in on him and he could feel a warm, sticky substance pumping out over his chest. _Not like this... _after everything they had been through, he couldn't die like this...

_Sammy..._

And then, suddenly, a peircing scream ripped through the air and the pressure on his chest vanished. At the same time a deafening _blam! _echoed out through the room. Dean felt the floor against his knees and cracked his eyes open, struggling to draw a breath, his whole body shuddering as it struggled to deal with the unbearable agony rolling over him. He looked up to see Sam standing shakily a few meters from him, the rifle raised. The demon had been blown backwards into the door. As Dean struggled to comprehend what had just happened, Sam staggered over to him, ripped the silver knife from his belt and threw it.

It struck the demon in the chest.

For a few moments she stood rigid, her mouth opening and closing as if in disbelief. Then she tumbled backwards and dissapated into nothing before she hit the ground. In the tense, shivery silence that followed Dean heard the dim bangs of guns from down in the forest, heard someone scream latin. He looked up at Sam, swaying on his knees.

"S'mmy?" he whispered.

Sam stumbled over to him and dropped to his knees in front of him, grabbing his shoulder. His younger brother was smeared with blood and dust, his skin pale, his eyes dark hollows in his head. He was visably shaking, and Dean could feel huge tremors running through him.

"Dean?" Sam said, his voice trembling. "You 'kay?"

Dean struggled to focus on his little brother. He wanted to tell him that he was fine, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, the darkness closed in on him and he felt himself falling away from the world, unable to claw his way back.

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Sam managed to catch his brother before Dean slumped to the ground and laid him back against the wall, barely strong enough himself to support him. Panicking, he checked his brother's pulse and found it beating steadily, if a little fast. Sam let out a sigh of relief and collapsed back against the wall beside Dean, allowing his eyes to slide shut.

_He came for me... I'm with Dean... it's all gonna be okay..._

For a while he thought he was falling, but then he realized that he was simply floating. Floating in a soft, deep sea. And even as he slipped into unconsciousness, he could feel Dean's arm against his cheek.

**Sorry for the wait on this chapter, I've had so much to do lately. Hope you like it, even if it is a little bit short. I'll try and get the next one in soon.**

**SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: I only own this story, not Supernatural or Sam and Dean!**

_Then..._

_Sam realized with a jolt that he was back in the wooden room... and out of his own head._

_"My brother's going to rip your head from your shoulders," he warned, his voice shaking._

_Sylvia smirked. "Really? Well, I'd like to see him try."_

_She flicked her hand upwards and Sam was thrown back against the back wall, letting out a scream as the sudden movement sent waves of pain over his chest. Sylvia stepped forwards, her eyes narrowing._

_"I'm fed up of looking at your face," she snarled, almost to herself. "I don't want to see it anymore."_

_There was something in her voice, something dark and sinister that set off the alarm bells in Sam's head. He clenched his jaw, struggling desperately against her hold._

_Hurry, Dean! he yelled inside. Please_

_He pulled out the rock salt gun, took a second deep breath to steady his spinning head, and then kicked the door open and ducked inside, a harsh shout ripping from his lips. He had about two seconds to take in the room, the possessed woman swinging around to face him and Sam pinned against the opposite wall with blood rushing over his chest. Then, before he had time to react, he was thrown into the wall by an invisible force and his head exploded in pain._

_"Fine," Sylvia snarled. "No more playing around. You die first."_

_Agony exploded in his chest and Dean let out a harsh yell of pain. He heard Sam weakly calling his name and lifted his head to see tears rushing down his brother's face. He tried to call out to him but all he could do was mouth Sam's name._

_And then, suddenly, a peircing scream ripped through the air and the pressure on his chest vanished. At the same time a deafening blam! echoed out through the room. Dean felt the floor against his knees and cracked his eyes open, struggling to draw a breath, his whole body shuddering as it struggled to deal with the unbearable agony rolling over him. He looked up to see Sam standing shakily a few meters from him, the rifle raised. The demon had been blown backwards into the door. As Dean struggled to comprehend what had just happened, Sam staggered over to him, ripped the silver knife from his belt and threw it. __It struck the demon in the chest._

_Dean struggled to focus on his little brother. He wanted to tell him that he was fine, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, the darkness closed in on him and he felt himself falling away from the world, unable to claw his way back._

_Sam managed to catch his brother before Dean slumped to the ground and laid him back against the wall, barely strong enough himself to support him. Panicking, he checked his brother's pulse and found it beating steadily, if a little fast. Sam let out a sigh of relief and collapsed back against the wall beside Dean, allowing his eyes to slide shut._

_He came for me... I'm with Dean... it's all gonna be okay..._

_Now..._

Dean awoke to a dull, throbbing pain in his chest. He stared up at the plain white ceiling above him, blinking slowly, before turning his head to the side. He was back in their motel room, the only light the lamp on the desk. He struggled to see through the dim light, looking slowly around. He caught sight of a huddled shape on the other bed, and instantly tensed, but then he recognized his little brother. He opened his mouth but his voice came out as a croak.

"S-Sam..."

Sam's head jerked up and his dark brown eyes fixed on Dean. He didn't smile, just uncurled himself and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Dean. How-w are you f-feeling?"

Dean didn't miss the way his brother's voice was trembling and pushed himself up on his elbows, concern leaping into his face.

"Fine. What's wrong, Sam?"

Sam shook his head, and then shuddered. He rose to his feet and retrieved a glass of water from the table. He returned to Dean and held out the glass, along with two tablets.

"Here."

His hand shook wildly, and Dean reached out to take the glass. He swallowed down the tablets, still watching Sam. "Sammy? Are you hurt? Where's Bobby?"

"I asked him to go get some more meds. He kept starin' at me and... asking if I was okay... just stuff."

"_Are _you okay?"

Sam shrugged and sat down on the edge of Dean's bed. Dean pushed himself up to lean back against the headboard, taking every detail of his brother in carefully. He looked pale, and every few seconds he trembled or shuddered. If he looked carefully he could see the frantic pulsating of his chest as he hyperventilated. But Sam didn't seem to be in a panic. Dean examined the bandage on his chest, the sores and cuts he had recieved over the last few days and his heart sank a little. Sam shivered again, and Dean bit back a shout of fustration.

"Sam, calm down. Nothing's after you here."

"N-No, I know."

"Then what the hell's wrong? Slow down, you'll faint if you keep breathing like that."

"I can't."

"Henrickson and Bobby won't let anything get to us-"

"No, Dean, I _can't."_

Dean blinked, stopped in his tracks by the sudden emotion in Sam's voice. He folded his arms, wordlessly probing Sam to tell him. Sam glanced at him hesitantly. Even his eyes seemed to move erratically, constantly jumping from place to place.

"When I woke up in the cabin... I dunno. There was something wrong. Since then I can't stop... well, this. I have this headache that's just... and I dont know..."

Dean swallowed hard as fear crept into his chest. "Well, you also have an inability to finish your sentences."

Sam managed a small smile. Dean tried to smile back but the muscles in his face wouldn't work, so instead he cleared his throat and rubbed his chest, relieved to find that the pain was beginning to receed.

"What do you think is wrong?" he asked.

"I'm not sure. But I'll find out."

Dean nodded and lapsed into silence again. His eyes were beginning to grow heavy. He started as darkness closed in on him, jerking awake again. Sam had risen to his feet and was pushing him back down to lie flat.

"Go back to sleep, Dean, I'll still be here when you wake up."

"Nuh... wanna talk to you..."

"Later."

And, for once, Dean couldn't argue. He didn't know if it was the seditives Sam had just given him or the exhaustion from the last few days finally showing, but within a few moments he had fallen into a deep, restless sleep.

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Sam watched Dean sink into unconsciousness before returning to his own bed and curling up against the wall again. It was good to know that his brother was okay, but Bobby would surely be back soon with Henrickson in tow, and then the constant glances of anxiety and worry would be back. He was so sick of people looking at him like he was about to keel over. He knew how he looked - he looked like death warmed over and then left on the table to go cold again. And he had wanted to talk to her before they got back, but it was becomming clear that she wasn't coming...

The lights flickered suddenly, and Sam sat up. He listened, biting his lip, and heard a small rustle outside. He rose to his feet, strode to the door and pulled it open. Outside their motel the night was dark and silent, the lampposts letting out small, ghostly white mists in place of lights. Sam glanced at Dean, who was still asleep, and then slipped out of the room. He shut the door softly behind him and turned, pushing his hands into his pockets. He had changed his jeans since his time at the cabin, but he couldn't seem to wash away the horrible clammy feeling the whole place had set off inside him. He stepped forwards into the night, looking around.

A sudden gust of wind rushed over him and he stopped. Then, slowly, he turned. Ruby was standing behind him, her face strangely hesitant and timid.

"Hi, Sam," she said tentatively, managing a wobbly smile.

Sam looked at her for a few moments. He watched as she took in his shaking figure, his panting breaths, his racing heart, the bandage on his shoulder. Then her eyes flickered up to his again.

"I'm so sorry for what I did... I just... it was you or the world, you know?"

"Dean was talking to me, he would've got through."

"I didn't know that. I... I'm sorry," she finished lamely. She spread her hands. "Take a shot at me if you want. I wouldn't blame you."

Sam laughed shortly. "Yeah right. I couldn't hit a girl." He surveyed her silently for a few moments before sighing. "Its okay. I would've done the same in your place."

Relief rushed over her face like a tidal wave and she let her hands drop. "Thank you. Its more than I deserve." She laughed. "You know, when I first heard your call I thought you were going to kill me."

"But you came anyway."

"What else could I do?"

Sam scuffed one foot on the pavement, hesitating. Ruby sighed and stepped forwards so that they were at a friendly distance apart rather than hanging back.

"I get the impression you wanted to ask me something else."

"Yeah." Sam looked up at her, biting his lip. "What's wrong with me?"

Ruby smiled ruefully. "You mean the twitchy-jerky stuff?"

Sam nodded, slightly put off by her bluntness.

"Honestly, I think its your powers. I gave them a big shock, you needed time to stop and then someone to help you come out of your coma peacefully. But then that bitch Sylvia came and just yanked you out too fast and you couldn't take it. You don't mess with stuff like this. You've probably found that you've lost most of your powers?"

"Yeah. I can only talk in people's minds, send out signals. I moved a chair a few minutes ago with my mind. And I could see what Dean and Bobby and Henrickson were thinking, but only if I tried really hard."

"The rest will come back in time."

"And the... ah, twitchy-jerky?"

Ruby shrugged. "Who knows? You could be stuck with it for life, or it might wear off."

Sam felt tears pricking at his eyes. So no matter what he did, he was always going to be a freak. Talking to Ruby hadn't helped him at all. Ruby seemed to notice his despair because she put a hand on his shoulder, her eyes suddenly tender again.

"I'm sorry it turned out like this, Sam. Nothing's certain anymore."

Sam laughed humourlessly. "I don't think it ever was."

"I wish there was more I could say."

Sam shook his head. "S'fine. I'll see you another time."

Taking the hint, she stepped aside and he headed for the motel. As he reached the door she called to him.

"Hey, Sam? Your pals aren't too keen on me right now. You might not want to mention this little chat."

"I'm not stupid. I wasn't going to."

"I'll see you soon."

He nodded shortly and then stepped inside, without waiting to see her vanish.

As he shut the door behind him, Dean stirred suddenly and opened his eyes.

"Sammy? Where'd you go?"

"Just wanted some air. Go back to sleep, I'm okay."

Dean struggled into a sitting position, blinking hard. Groaning inwardly, Sam moved over to him. "Dean, seriously. Unless you want to faint in the middle of chatting some innocent girl up tomorrow?"

"Sam, I didn't get to say..."

Sam paused, and Dean jerked his head akwardly at the bed. Sam sat down and Dean leant forwards, bracing himself with one arm.

"Sam, it doesn't matter what you are. You're still my brother."

Sam blinked at him. "Dean, I don't even think I'm human anymore. I'm a fr-"

"No." Dean's voice cut him off. "No, you're not, and if you ever dare to say that again I'll tell Bobby you still suck your thumb."

"But I don't suck my-"

"Doesn't matter." Dean reached out and took Sam's shoulder, his hand exactly where Ruby's had been only a few moments before. "Sam, we're gonna work this out. Everything - is - gonna - be - fine."

Something inside Sam broke apart and he felt his eyes welling up. Suddenly unable to stop himself, he leant forwards and hugged Dean tightly, just needing the touch of his brother again. Needing to know he wasn't alone. He felt Dean wrap his arms around him and suppressed a sob, closing his eyes.

"Its okay, Sammy," Dean murmured, running one hand over his hair. "I'm gonna sort this. You're gonna be fine. Now we can finally be brothers again."

_End_

**Okay, was that a giant chick flick or what?! Thank you so much for all the reviews you guys gave me and I'm so, so sorry for the long waits towards the end of this fic. I hate real life! :) Thanks for reading!**

**SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


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